


Vermillion Colored Desires

by CitrusKix



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ballroom Dancing, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Church of Seiros (Fire Emblem), Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay Panic, Masturbation, Multi, One-sided hatred, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Teacher-Student Relationship, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusKix/pseuds/CitrusKix
Summary: Sylvain hated Byleth.It wasn’t for any particular reason that he hated the older man. It wasn’t because he was a mercenary who barged into a world of nobility. It wasn’t because he suddenly thrusted himself onto the redhead’s house at Garreg Mach and made himself their new professor. It wasn’t because he was lauded with praise by Lady Rhea herself when all he got was the occasional scowl of disapproval from her whenever his flirtatious attitude got him in trouble with the monastery.Sylvain just simply hated Byleth from the moment the two met for the very first time.(Main ship is Sylvain x M!Byleth, side ships are one-sided Dimitri x M!Byleth post-timeskip and Felix x Annette.)
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Vermillion Colored Desires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BoydTheReaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoydTheReaver/gifts).



Sylvain hated Byleth.

It wasn’t for any particular reason that he hated the older man. It wasn’t because he was a mercenary who barged into a world of nobility. It wasn’t because he suddenly thrusted himself onto the redhead’s house at Garreg Mach and made himself their new professor. It wasn’t because he was lauded with praise by Lady Rhea herself when all he got was the occasional scowl of disapproval from her whenever his flirtatious attitude got him in trouble with the monastery.

Sylvain just simply hated Byleth from the moment the two met for the very first time.

It was when Byleth was first traveling around the monastery per Rhea’s request, and getting accustomed to the place. The Blue Lions, save for Dimitri who was off doing something else, were gathered in a lecture hall, chatting away with each other just the day before the school year began. The great oak door that separated them from the rest of the monastery was closed off, so when the wood creates as it opened and let fresh air in, all of the students’ eyes laid on who it was that opened the door. And that was none other than Byleth.

“Ah, my apologies,” he started, recognizing that they were in a lecture hall. “I was not aware classes were in session at the moment.”

“Oh, no no, it’s alright,” Mercedes spoke up. “We actually aren’t in a class right now. The school year doesn’t begin until tomorrow. Right now, we’re all just getting to know each other.”

Byleth’s eyes widened with realization. “Ah, I see.” He closed the door behind him, effectively closing himself in the room with everyone else. “I’m new here, so I’m just taking a look around,” he explained. “Please, don’t mind me at all.”

“Hey, wait a second! Aren’t you the mercenary that Dimitri told us about?” The remark came from Ashe as he was standing nearby one of the pillars, and it quickly spun on some clamor amongst the group.

“Ah, by Dimitri, do you mean the blond gentleman with the black out and the blue cape on his shoulder?” Byleth asked. When he was met with a chorus of people saying yes in unison, the mercenary nodded. “In that case, I believe I may be that guy. A pleasure to meet you all.”

At that moment, nearly everyone save for Sylvain became excited at meeting the mercenary that came to the aid of their crown prince, and rushed over to him. Surrounding Byleth, the group practically bombarded him with questions.

“Is it true that you’re the son of Jeralt Eisner, the former captain of the Knights of Seiros?”

“Dimitri said he was in awe when he saw you using your sword in battle! Could you maybe teach me a few tricks, please?”

“Are you going to be joining our house this year! I really hope you do!”

“On behalf of everyone in the Blue Lions house, would you please consider visiting us often? We’d like to learn more about you.”

“I can tell you wield your sword with mastery. Would it be much to ask you to spar with me sometime?”

Byleth, evidently rather overwhelmed with the mass amount of questions the people around him were throwing at him, asked everyone to step back, which they did once they realized they might’ve been making him a tad uncomfortable. He thanked them for understanding, before explaining to the bunch “I’ll consider joining the Blue Lions once I’ve sufficiently gotten to know the other houses better, though I cannot make any promises. Your kind words of enthusiasm do move me, though, and I thank you for that.”

The three girls in the group blushed, while the other guys surrounding the older man gave their approval for Byleth’s words. It was not until Sylvain spoke up that someone gave their disapproval. “Oh come on guys, you cannot be serious,” the redhead began. “Do you really expect this mercenary - who, mind you, has probably never gotten a proper education in his entire life - to just suddenly start attending the Officer’s Academy in a house full of nobles? And, moreover, do you honestly think he’s here because he wants to be here? He’s probably just here because the house leaders put a good word in to Lady Rhea about him, and he didn’t have the guts to say no to the archbishop’s face.”

The group fell silent, and Sylvain could feel Byleth’s eyes on him, yet he dared not to look back at the older man for reasons unknown to even him. It was Felix who first broke the silence. “Sylvain does have a point,” he started. “He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to have the same level of education as us.”

“Gods, THANK YOU Felix! Finally, someone who understands-!”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean he can’t offer his own perspective on the education he received.”

“...Come again?”

“That’s true. He was experience on the battlefield as a mercenary, which is something we’re in dire need of,” Ingrid spoke up. “Formal education can only go so far in the real world.”

“Agreed,” Annette chimed in. “We’re at an academy to learn how to fight, after all. Who else would be a better teacher for something like that than a seasoned fighter?”

“Uh, a teacher, duh,” Sylvain retorted, seeing an opening in Annette’s statement to argue back at. “He hasn’t said he’s going to be a new professor here or anything. For all we know, he could just be attending as a student. And just think of all the trouble he’d cause as a student in an environment like this.”

“Sylvain, cease your undermining statements this instant,” Dedue spoke, causing the redhead to shut up momentarily. “It’s quite rude to assume someone of a different background would cause such a ruckus like you claim when you barely even know them. And need I remind you of your condescending comment regarding commoners that you made earlier?”

“Yeah, that rubbed me the wrong way as well,” Ashe added. “I may be the heir to House Gaspard, but I was adopted into it. Before that, I was a commoner myself, having to steal valuables in order to make money and survive. Others also have similar stories to that. Mercedes has the minor Crest of Lamine, but she was raised as a commoner. Dedue hails from Duscur; I’m sure no further explanation regarding all the prejudicial accusations towards people from there is needed. And there’s a few other commoners here at the Officer’s Academy, like Dorothea in the Black Eagles house and Leonie in the Golden Deer house. So why are you like this, Sylvain? You should know better.”

Finding himself to be at a loss of words, Sylvain merely slumped down onto a nearby chair with his mouth hanging open at Ashe’s remark. And, much to both his surprise and chagrin, it was Byleth who spoke up to support Sylvain. “He does pose quite a few points,” the cerulean haired guy commented. “However, should I decide to join the Blue Lions, I will do my best to prove those claims to be false. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I must take my leave now to explore the monastery some more. Thank you for your time.” Finishing his sentence, the older man turned around to exit the lecture hall, making sure to close the giant creaking oak door as silently as he could.

With Byleth out of the room, all eyes turned to Sylvain. Ingrid was the first to react, storming up to him with an almost murderous glare in her eyes. “Sylvain,” she seethed. “You and I are going to have a very, very, very long talk later today about everything. Do I make myself clear to you?”

Sylvain, on the other hand, pretty much stared at her absentmindedly. He gave no response other than a silent nod, which Ingrid took as enough verification that he understood her, and walked off. The redhead lowered his head to look down on the ground, and a malicious look of absolute hatred grew on his face. His eyebrows furrowed, his mouth formed an almost chaotic snarl, and his eyes were wide with anger.

At that moment, Sylvain felt as if the universe was out for him, and that they day couldn’t have gotten any worse than it already had.

...

Unfortunately for Sylvain, the universe seemed to not be done with making him suffer, and threw a curveball at him he wasn’t expecting; Byleth was going to be acting as the new professor for the Blue Lions house.

The news came to the students when Dimitri properly introduced Byleth to everyone a few hours after they all first met, and explained how the professor they were supposed to have for the upcoming school year ran off in a frenzy and was unceremoniously killed off by the bandit gang that had attacked the house leaders’ camp. Voices arose from the crowd, murmuring amongst themselves about having such a young professor. Everyone, bar Sylvain, seemed to be in agreement over having the older man act as their professor.

“Um, I’d like to formally apologize for my confusion,” Mercedes spoke up. “I thought you were a fellow student of the Officer’s Academy, since you looked rather young to be a professor.”

“I-I thought the same thing, too!” Annette chimed in, evidently trying to come to the aid of her dear friend while also revealing her own thoughts. “But it’s probably for the best that we have someone like you acting as our professor!”

“I have to agree with Annette on this one. I don’t think I’d be able to handle a lecture from someone like Hanneman,” Felix half joked. “And besides, it’s good to have an actual warrior be the one to teach us combat. A sparring session would most definitely be welcomed for me.”

“Felix is right. A person with combat experience will provide beneficial insight on how a battle should play out, even if the stage for it is just a controlled one,” Dimitri agreed, nodding along with what the other guy had to say. “So, Byleth, as the house representative for the Blue Lions, thank you for picking to teach us. We will be in your hands.”

Byleth laughed a little, offering everyone a grin as he looked over the small sea of people. “In that case, it’s my honor to act as your professor,” he began. “I hope that my lessons will prove to be valuable in the long run. And, for some of you, I hope to prove your expectations of me to be wrong.”

Catching on to what the older man had just stated, Sylvain whipped his head around and stared at him, a light frown of disapproval coming off his face. All he had to say in response to Byleth’s comment was a scoff. Byleth simply found the antic to be amusing.

“Starting tomorrow, I’d appreciate it if you could all refer to me as Professor,” Byleth continued. “While I’d like to become more acquainted with each and every one of you, I must also establish a proper workplace relationship between teacher and student. I apologize in advance if this may make you uncomfortable to some degree, but I refuse to budge on the matter.”

“It’s quite alright Professor. I completely understand,” Ingrid agreed, swiftly adopting the new moniker for Byleth with ease. “I hope others within the house will understand the need for formalities as well.” Sylvain could feel the blonde’s words piercing right through his body, almost as if she was expecting him to mess up intentionally during some lecture.

“Yeah yeah, that’s all good and everything,” Sylvain dismissively commented. “We’ll see you in class tomorrow... Professor.”

Taking Sylvain’s pause on his new title as a sign of his disinterest in having him around for much longer, Byleth simply nodded in response. “Very well. I must leave to go prepare for everything tomorrow and the following day’s lectures, so thank you for your time. I’ll see you all in class at eight o’ clock sharp.” And with that, the blue haired man made his way out of the room everyone was in.

Once the new professor was out of the room, Sylvain let out a long groan and let his body fall loose on the chair he was sitting in. “Oh thank gods he’s gone,” Sylvain exclaimed. “Him being around is just so damn suffocating.”

“Is it because you feel challenged by him? He does seem to easily be able to win over girls in a classy manner,” Ashe spoke up. Sylvain swiftly scowled at the silver-haired boy, glaring daggers into him, causing the shorter boy to let out a small whimper and cower behind Dedue, who rested his hand on the boy’s head as if to protect him from the redhead.

Taking one last moment to glare at Ashe for his comment, Sylvain simply scoffed and rested his hands on the back of his head. “Gods no. I’m not afraid of that guy in the slightest,” he explained. “There’s just something about him that I just can’t stand.”

“...I think you might just be compensating for something,” Felix teased, earning a light giggle from Annette and an uncharacteristic snicker from Ingrid as a response. Sylvain’s jaw dropped, feeling betrayed by the man who was supposed to be his best friend. All Felix did to respond to Sylvain’s jaw drop was give him a smirk that practically said “Serves you right”.

“I-In any case, we should probably get ready for tomorrow ourselves,” Dimitri spoke up, trying to intervene with the situation at hand. “School begins tomorrow, and like how Professor Byleth said, we start at eight o’ clock in the morning. I really don’t want anyone to be tired for their first day.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Your Highness,” Dedue praised the prince. “We should all take his advice to heart and get ready. I would imagine a few of us still need to procure some items to prepare for the lectures.”

Mercedes nodded. “I’d like to be able to get a new satchel for all of my books myself,” she explained. “My old one’s starting to wear out a bit.”

“I’ll come with you!” Annette chirped. “But I’ll need to head over to the greenhouse after we’re done. I still have to take care of all the plants.”

“In that case, let’s call it a day now, so we can all get ready,” Dimitri declared. “Rest up, everyone. I’ll see you all tomorrow for our first day of school.” With Dimitri’s declaration, the Blue Lions began to file out of the classroom one by one, until Felix and Sylvain were the only ones left in the room.

Felix leaned against one of the pillars and folded his arms. “Listen up, you absolute dumbass,” Felix hissed at Sylvain. “I’m going to say this once and only once. The boar likes the new guy and made him our new teacher for the semester, so at the very least, try to get along with him.”

Sylvain simply rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, whatever. I’ll try to do that,” he dismissively responded, waving his hand. “Anything else you wanna add to that?”

“...You’d probably like him if he was a girl instead.”

For whatever reason, Felix’s little comment enraged Sylvain, causing the redhead to kick himself up from his chair and slam his fists down on the table. “You know DAMN well that isn’t true!” he roared.

“Oh, really? Because you seem to be more than happy to make friends with every single girl you see,” Felix snapped back. “Remember when we first met Lady Rhea? You told me after she was done talking with us that you wouldn’t mind it if she became your new - and I quote - ‘sugar mommy’.”

“That was a JOKE!”

“Was it though? Was it really a joke?”

Sylvain stood there, grimacing at the black-haired boy. He finally spoke up with an angry “Just get out of here, Felix.”

Felix shrugged, and made his way over to the door. “Alright, fine. I’ll get out of your hair for now,” he complied. Right when he rested his hand on the door’s iron handle, he quickly threw in “You need time to think about why you hate him. Maybe then you’ll realize just how daft you’re being.”

“Yeah, sure, I’m the daft one,” Sylvain sneered. “At least I’m not the lovesick puppy, trailing behind a poor girl who probably thinks you’re the biggest asshole in the entire damn world.” Not even dignifying the redhead with a verbal response, Felix simply gave him a quick look of disapproval before throwing open the oak door and walking out of the room, leaving Sylvain by his lonesome.

Sylvain rolled his hand down his face and stretched his body. “Fuck... these guys have a point,” Sylvain finally admitted. “Why do I even hate him? He hasn’t even done anything wrong...” He let out one final groan before getting up from his arched over position. “Screw it. I’m sleeping early tonight. It’ll probably do me more good than anything.”

...

The midnight air was crisp when Sylvain opened his eyes.

When he got up out of his bed and looked out his room’s window, he could see the moon shining down on Garreg Mach, illuminating the otherwise lightless monastery and both the fields and forests that surrounded it. Everything seemed to stand still outside, and the only noise being made were the hoots of a lone owl and the rustle of leaves and branches in the gentle air.

That is, until he heard footsteps outside his door.

The footsteps seemed to be of heels clicking against the cobblestone pathway, walking in a delicate yet meaningful manner. Sylvain could tell that whoever it was, they had an aura of strength and grace around them. And he simply had to see who it was.

Hobbling over to his door, still dressed in his nightly attire, Sylvain opened the door and looked out to see who the person walking was. When he turned his head to his left, he was met with a view of a woman the redhead could only describe as being beautiful. She had cerulean hair that flowed just right past her shoulders, and wore a sleeved cape of some sort with a black dress underneath it. Around her legs were some lacy black stockings and black high heels that doubled as boots. And, while the redhead couldn’t see her face due to her back being towards him, he could tell that her face was one of softness, almost like a mother would have.

“H-Hey, wait...!”

Sylvain didn’t fully understand why he started running after her, nor why he called out to her. He was running barefoot on cobblestone after a girl he just met for the very first time. He never did that for any girl he’s ever met. But he could tell that his call for her caught her attention. The woman stopped walking after slowing down a bit to let Sylvain catch up to her, yet never turned her head around to see who it was that called out to her.

Reaching out his hand for her, Sylvain shouted something that he himself didn’t quite hear. When he finally caught up to her in the middle of his run, he placed his hand on her shoulder. And much to his chagrin, he was jolted back to reality.

It was a rather unpleasant waking for the redhead. The sun was beaming down on his eyes, hurting them just as he woke up, making the sensitivity that much more painful for him. He could hear commotion out in the hallway, meaning the day at the monastery had just begun.

Classes had just begun.

“Oh fuck-!” he shouted in realization, falling out of his bed. Quickly scrambling to get ready for the day, he changed out of his nightly attire and into his school clothes, quickly wiped the line of dried up drool that run down one side of his face, and bolted out of his room. As he ran, though, only one question was on his mind.

“Just who the hell was that woman...?”

...

“...The most basic of weaponry concepts is as follows; swords beat axes, axes beat lances, and lances beat swords. It’s best to think of it as a triangular diagram of sorts.”

In order to properly gage each student’s fighting capabilities, the first lecture of the school year was on basic fighting concepts, so that even the commoners in the houses could have a foundation to grow upon. For Sylvain however, it was redundant information. And with his already tired state of mind after the dream of the woman, he found himself dazing off in class.

Felix was seated right next to him, and constantly kept trying to keep him awake. He whispered stuff to him such as “If you don’t stop looking like an oaf, I’ll beat your ass in a fight”, before eventually snapping and whacking the redhead in the face with a book, causing the latter to hiss in pain. And with that, Byleth turned his attention over to the two.

“Excuse me, may either of you explain what exactly is going on here?”

The two boys froze as everyone in the lecture hall turned their attention over to them. Some people shot them looks of disappointment, while others silently giggled at their situation. Sylvain simply sat there frozen, while Felix took the reigns and spoke up.

“If you must know Professor, this idiot was pretty much about to fall asleep,” Felix explained. “I’ve been trying to keep him awake so he can pay attention to your lecture.”

Byleth simply uttered “I see” as he mulled over what to do, before turning his attention over to Sylvain. “Sylvain, allow me to ask you a question,” he spoke. “Are lectures boring to you?”

The redhead hesitated for a moment before piping up with a small “Yes Professor”. Byleth silently processed the statement before coming up with a solution.

“In that case, how about we cut this lecture short today so everyone can get some training experience?”

“...Huh?”

Sylvain was absolutely dumbfounded at what Byleth had just said. Instead of punishing him, Byleth had instead opted to comply. “But... why?” he asked.

“I have an idea on a lesson for you that will double as an appropriate punishment.”

Byleth’s statement ran Sylvain’s blood cold, and the air in the lecture hall suddenly felt heavy. Sylvain started at the professor for a long moment before lowering his head and uttering “Yes Professor”. Though he couldn’t see his reaction, Sylvain could tell Byleth was disappointed in him.

“Very well. Everyone, we’ll be outside for the duration of today’s lecture,” Byleth explained to everyone else. “Grab any and all valuables you brought with you, and follow me. We’ll be grabbing some equipment before heading out to a courtyard to practice.”

With that, everyone got up from their chairs and grabbed their belongings before heading out the lecture hall, with Sylvain hiding in the back of the group. He knew that whatever Byleth had in store for him, he was going to be royally screwed over by it.

...

Everything happened so quickly.

When everyone arrived at the courtyard after gathering all of the required equipment, Byleth laid out one of every piece of equipment in front of Sylvain. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, this lesson is a sparring match for you,” he told the student. “You can pick whichever item you’d like to spar with. Just know I will not be going easy on you.”

Sylvain stares intensively at Byleth, confused by the idea of him sparring the mercenary and by what weapon he should ultimately choose. Eventually though, he settled on a long wooden pole. “I guess I’ll go with this...” he shrugged.

Byleth nodded, and picked up the smaller stick beside it. “Very well. May someone quickly come over and clean up everything else?” Mercedes and Ashe quickly swooped in to clean up everything before scurrying off to the sidelines to watch the sparring session with everyone else. Silently, aside from Dimitri, everyone was wondering just how skilled their professor was in combat, and just how relentless he’d be against Sylvain.

Sylvain was the first to make a move. Shouting out a war cry, he ran up to the professor with the pole in one of his hands, sticking out in front of him. Unfortunately for him, Byleth dodged the attack with ease, and broke the pole in half with a swing of the stick he was wielding. Sylvain, too late to halt himself from the momentum of his run, ran straight into an elbow into his chest which transitioned into a fist to his nose, causing him to stumble backwards. Wasting no time to let the student recover, Byleth lunged his stick into the redhead’s gut, causing the student to fall forward into a knee to his gut as well, before landing face first onto the courtyard’s floor. Everyone watching from the sidelines had their jaws drop at how swiftly and effectively Byleth had handled Sylvain.

“You left yourself open to being attacked, which your opponents can and will take advantage of,” Byleth lectured the redhead, still laying on the floor and writhing in pain. “If this were a real battle, you’d most likely be bleeding out from my sword stabbing you in the abdominal area, on the verge of death. And since you’re both a noble and a crest bearer, you have to be much more careful about these sorts of things, since your life inherently holds much more value than a typical commoner. Learn from this experience and grow if you don’t wish to die in a real battle.” Turning his attention over to the crowd of students, Byleth asked “Felix, may you take Sylvain to the infirmary please?”

“Uh, sure,” Felix complied. He walked over to Sylvain and helped him up, slinging the redhead’s arm around his shoulder and helping him walk over to the professor. Byleth handed Felix a small vial of what seemed to be a milky white cream of some sort. “What’s this, Professor?” he asked.

“It’s an ointment containing calendula extract and arnica,” Byleth explained. “Tell that to Manuela, and she’ll know what to do next. Come back after you’re done.” The professor turned his attention over to everyone else. “Alright everyone, for the rest of class, we’ll be practicing with different types of weapons. Feel free to pick whichever you think best suits you, and wait for further instructions.”

Felix smiled at the professor, before beginning to make his way to the infirmary with Sylvain by him. “Dude, he beat your ass so hard,” he teased. “You better hope you won’t have to go through that again, because that looked absolutely brutal.”

“...Ugh, just shut up, please...”

“...Nah. I don’t think I’m going to ever let you live it down.”

“...Gods, I hate you sometimes...”

...

When Felix and Sylvain managed to arrive at the infirmary, they were greeted with a sight of both Manuela and Dorothea chatting away about traveling musical groups. The two girls looked at the boys, and Manuela gasped while Dorothea stood up from her chair. “By the gods, what happened to him?” Dorothea asked.

“Sylvain wasn’t paying attention to our lecture today, so the professor took the class outside to practice using weaponry with the equipment in those storage closets,” Felix explained. “He took that as an opportunity to spar with this oaf right here and teach him a lesson. To put it nicely, this guy got his a- I mean butt handed to him.”

“...Seriously? Sparring with a student? And going this far? On the first day nonetheless? Good gods, I’m going to need to have a word with him...” Manuela sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. “Dorothea, do be a dear and help this gentlemen lay his companion down on one of the beds.”

Without saying much, Dorothea walked up to the two and threw Sylvain’s free arm around her neck before helping carry him over to one of the beds. She gently slipped the redhead into the bed, making sure to cover his body with the blankets. “There, he should be a little more comfortable now,” she said. “Thanks for bringing him here.”

“Well, when the professor says something, you just have to do as you’re told,” Felix retorted, earning a light chuckle from Dorothea. “Ain’t that right, Sylvain?” He jokingly punched Sylvain in the arm, earning a sharp inhale of pain from the redhead.

“Hey now, no roughhousing in my infirmary,” Manuela scolded Felix. “Besides, we need to keep it down. Marianne’s come down with a fever, and loud noises will only make her feel worse.” Felix looked over at one of the beds at the end of the infirmary, and sure enough, Marianne was laying there with a bag of ice placed atop her forehead. “Poor girl fainted in class, and Hanneman had to come running to me. Class just ended though, so Dorothea tagged along to treat her.”

“It also gave me the opportunity to talk to you more outside of class, so it was perfect for me to tag along,” Dorothea hummed. “Anyways, is that all you needed to do?”

“Huh? Oh, right,” Felix remembered. “I have this for you, Professor. It’s calendula extract and arnica. Professor Byleth wanted me to give it you for Sylvain.” He pulled out the vial Byleth gave to him earlier, and handed it to Manuela.

“...Gods, I want to be mad at him for beating one of his own students up, but I can’t if he’s going to be kind enough to offer something like this in return...” Manuela grumbled. “Thank you for everything Felix. You may return to your class.”

“Yeah, go return to your beloved Annette,” Dorothea teased. “She’ll be so elated to see you return!”

Felix hissed at the girl, only to be met back with a sly smirk. “I do not have a crush on her!”

“Oh really? Because I can swear you go all googly-eyed whenever that gigantically generous ginger girl pops up.”

“I do not!”

“You totally do.”

“DO! NOT!”

“Yeah yeah, sure, whatever. Tell yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. But you want to know how I can tell?”

“...Fine. How can you possibly tell I have a crush on Annette?”

“...I can tell because I never said anything about you having a crush on her. You brought that up yourself.”

Felix found himself at a loss for words, merely staring at the fellow student flabbergasted, before fuming up and silently storming out of the room, practically stomping his feet as he did so. “Man, he was so easy to tease,” Dorothea giggled. “Maybe I could use this as leverage sometime in the future.”

“Please don’t do anything like that, Dorothea,” Manuela pleaded. “Blackmailing someone will most likely get you expelled from the Officer’s Academy, and you’ve worked so hard to get here.”

Dorothea snickered at the professor’s statement. “That’s true, that’s true,” she admitted. “Plus, it probably isn’t a good idea to admit to such a thing in front of your own professor, even if you’re close with them.”

Manuela offered her a light smile before getting up from her chair with Byleth’s vial in hand. “In any case, we should probably get to treating Sylvain’s wounds right about now. Dorothea, strip him of his shirts so I may apply the cream to his injured areas. And do be careful with doing so; he may be sore in certain spots. I need to go fetch some bandaging tape really quickly.”

Dorothea nodded, and got to work on undressing Sylvain as Manuela exited the room. “Look at you, getting beaten up by your professor on the first day. How does that make you feel?”

“...Like absolute shit.”

Dorothea laughed at it, quickly silencing herself when she heard Marianne groan in pain from the noise. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” she teased. “Now lift your arms up so I can you ready.”

“...Fine... I’ll play along,” Sylvain grumbled. He helped Dorothea remove his shirts, leaving his chest to be exposed, showing areas that were beginning to bruise around his abdominal region and chest that were hit by Byleth during their sparring session. Dorothea whistled.

“Dang, you clean yourself up good,” she grinned. “You work out much?”

“...Not enough, apparently.”

“Well, you did just go up against the Ashen Demon, so don’t beat yourself up too hard. But do beat yourself up a bit. You are a noble, after all.”

Shortly after Dorothea made that joke, Manuela came back with the bandaging tape in one hand, and still holding the vial in the other. “Are you ready, Sylvain?” she asked. When the redhead nodded, she got down beside him and dabbed some of the cream onto the palm of her hand and thoroughly rubbed it on the bruises emerging on his body, before wrapping the areas with the bandaging tape. “That should do it,” she sighed in relief. “Make sure to rest up for the time being. You’ll probably be able to go back to class tomorrow. Dorothea and I will leave you to rest.” With the student tagging along behind her, Manuela exited the infirmary, leaving Sylvain with a resting Marianne and his thoughts.

He sat there in silence, staring up at the ceiling. “Gods... this is pathetic,” he grumbled to himself. “I’m supposed to be strong, yet here I am, laying in this stupid infirmary bed because I got my ass handed to me by some mercenary. I bet Felix is probably laughing his ass off right now at what happened to me.”

“...I don’t think you’re the bad, Sylvain...” Marianne weakly stated. “You lost this one time... but maybe next time, you can-“

“Marianne, I just- please, don’t. Let me be angry for now.”

“...Oh, okay... s-sorry...”

Before finding himself quickly falling asleep, all Sylvain could utter back to the blue-haired girl was a small “No... I’m the one... who should be sorry.”

...

“H-How could you cheat on me like that, Sylvain?!”

“Baby, do you honestly think I’d cheat on my partner? On someone like you? Come on, that’s crazy talk. You should know me better than that by now.”

“I quite literally saw you making out with the baker’s daughter behind the library! Y-You were even g-g-groping her bosoms!”

Sylvain and his village girl of the week, Bethany, we’re having an argument down in one the villages nearby Garreg Mach that the Officer’s Academy students could visit with ease. This ease of visiting made it quite a breeze for Sylvain to hook up with various village girls to pleasure himself with. And sometimes, the village girls would find out about Sylvain’s little expeditions and confront him about it, believing them to be the only ones for him, thus throwing the noble into a constant cycle of arguments over affairs. “...Do you honestly not believe my words, Bethany?” Sylvain asked.

“How can I, when my own eyes see something like that?!” the girl sobbed. “I-I-I thought you were the one for me! I genuinely cared for you, Sylvain! I-I even told my parents about you! They were so elated! How could you do this to me?! T-To them?! They’ll be heartbroken! Heartbroken, I say! Heartbroken!”

Sylvain sighed and folded his arms. “Then how about I introduce you to some other guys?” he asked. “They’ll all nobles, and they all have crests. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“...A-Are you... insinuating that I only dated you because you’re a crest-bearing noble...?” Bethany asked, wide-eyed and in utter shock over the redhead’s suggestion.

All Sylvain simply said in response was “Isn’t that why all women date me?”, and offered an uncaring shrug.

Bethany’s eyes watered up as her face turned red. “You... you...!”

“Awh, don’t cry, baby...” Sylvain mockingly said. “I just want you to be happy; I hate seeing girls cry, especially ones as beautiful as you.” He was swiftly met with a slap on the face right before the girl ran off, disappearing into the various alleyways the village had.

“You broke her heart, didn’t you?”

Hearing the voice that irritated him ever so much, Sylvain’s eyes narrowed as he turned around to face who it belonged to. “Oh, hello Professor,” he coldly greeted him. “Did you enjoy spying on me?”

“I merely overheard what I’m assuming is the tail end of your conversation with that girl,” Byleth explained. “Something regarding crests and nobles, with a slap on the face and a turn of the heels. That sort of reaction seems to me like you broke her heart.”

Sylvain merely scoffed at the older man’s words. “Okay, yeah, sure, that’s how it turned out. But I’m a victim of this too, you know,” he stated. “It pains me to see girls suffering. It hurts my heart, you know?”

“It doesn’t seem like that to me. In fact, it seemed like quite the opposite; that you were relishing in her misery.”

Byleth’s statement struck a chord with the noble, causing him to become even more annoyed with the older man that he was already. “Oh, is that a fact?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Then pray tell, Professor; what would you do in that sort of predicament?”

“Well, for starters, I would be more open with how I feel, and less... condescending, I should say,” he stated. “If things aren’t working out and the flame is no longer there, it would be wise to cut it off. Better to cut them off before things get messy and you both get hurt. In some cases, quite literally.”

“...You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Sylvain admitted, now actually interested in what the older man had to say. “Care to elaborate on that?”

“I... suppose I could share the story with you, since it may help you with your future, erm... encounters,” Byleth agreed. Clearing his throat, he began to share the story.

“This was about a year and a half ago, back when I was still a mercenary for my father’s group. We arrived at a village in the southern parts of the Kingdom of Faerghus, not too far north from here; maybe a hundred kilometers or so. They offered to take us in for a week, and I became acquainted with one of the villagers quite... intimately, I should say. We ended up in bed together one night, and after we had gotten to, erm, know each other better, we were about to fall asleep. Just then, she pulled out a knife from underneath her pillow, climbed atop of me, and tried to slit my throat with it. I pushed her off, but she managed to leave a gash along the length of my thigh that’s still visible to this day. Needless to say, our company ended up leaving the village that night in a hurry.”

After finishing his story, Byleth cleared his throat once again. “I apologize for the explicit details, but it was vital for you to understand that sometimes, your pleasures may end up hurting you. Please be more careful with your future endeavors.” With that, Byleth left Sylvain standing there in the middle of the village, dumbfounded at the older man’s story.

“Damn... our professor was getting laid not too long ago, huh...?” Sylvain muttered for himself. “Guess that’d make him a bit younger than me... I’m not surprised he had that lifestyle since he was a mercenary, but damn. I need to seriously up my game from now on.”

...

The midnight air was crisp when Sylvain opened his eyes.

Everything was exactly the same as it was last time; the moonlight shining down on Garreg Mach, the almost tranquil silence save for the lone owl’s hoot and the rustling of leaves. Sylvain couldn’t tell if he was dreaming or not when he opened his eyes this time around.

About two weeks had passed since the last time the dream that was identical to whatever was going on occurred. He had been beaten by his professor in a fight that made him look like a fool, got caught in yet another affair by the village girl of the week, and had to sit down through what seemed to be countless hours of lectures that bored the redhead half to death. He yearned for something new and exciting to happen to him, something that would change things up for him.

And then he heard the footsteps.

They were exactly the same as the footsteps from the dream; the clacking of heels on the cobblestone floor as the person walked past the noble’s dormroom down the hallway, off to go to some unknown location. If Sylvain was right - like he hoped he would be - it would be the same beauty that he saw in his dream that fateful night those weeks ago. He had to check.

Opening the door out to the hallway, the person making the clacking noises with the heels was none other than the beautiful woman that showed up in the dream last time. Her outfit was exactly the same, as was the hairstyle. But Sylvain could tell that something was different about her this time around.

“H-Hey, wait...!”

Once again, Sylvain found himself chasing after the woman barefoot in the hallway, still unsure as to what her name was. She slowed down for him, before turning around to face him. He wanted to see her face, to confirm that, yes, she had the face of softness that someone like a mother would have. But instead, he found himself look at something else.

The scar on her left thigh that ran the entire length of it. The scar that resembled a gash of sorts.

It was partially obscured by the stockings she had on, but Sylvain could see them quite clearly with the aid of the moonlight shining down on them, and his eyes went wide with shock. But before he could even begin to process just what the gash meant, he bumped into the woman, running the top of his head right into her bosoms, and abruptly woke up.

Much like last time he woke up in a similar manner, the sun was out and people were outside in the hallway, going about their daily lives. But Sylvain couldn’t care what other people were doing. All he could care about at the present moment was what he saw in his dream. And without even thinking about it, Sylvain found himself calling out someone’s name as if he was mewling like a stray cat, someone whose name he never expected himself to call out loud in such a manner.

“...Professor...?”

...

“Remember everyone, we’ll be venturing out to Zanado in the new few days per Lady Rhea’s request, so every one of you needs to be ready for whatever those bandits may throw at us!”

The Blue Lions were training out in the fields aside Garreg Mach to prepare for the unbalanced terrain they may face, and to become better acquainted with the various weapons they chose to use. For Sylvain, that would be a lance. As per Byleth’s recommendation, the redhead was trying to wield in a manner akin to that of a footsoldier, going up against a straw dummy.

Sylvain hacked away at the dummy with his new iron lance, yelling and grunting each time he did so. He made considerable cuts to its straw components - cuts that could prove to be fatal on another human - and he was proud of it, yet at the same time, unnerved at the seeming prospect of taking another person’s life. He wiped off the beads of sweat that were growing on his forehead, and turned to look at Ingrid, who was practicing the same thing he was a few yards over on another straw dummy.

“Yo, Ingrid!” he shouted. “How’s your training coming along?”

The blonde girl stopped practicing after making a considerable cut in the straw dummy before her, and turned to focus on Sylvain. “I’d say it’s coming along quite smoothly,” she stated. “My attacks seem to be dealing considerable damage, based on how deep the cuts are on these dummies.”

Sylvain looked over at the dummy Ingrid was practicing on, and whistled when he saw what she did to it. The cuts on the straw left damage to them that not even Sylvain’s cuts could compared to. While there was a chance for someone to survive Sylvain’s lance, anyone who dared to face Ingrid’s lance would most certainly be met with death. “Damn, that’s... dangerous,” he commented. “You’ll probably end up having more blood on your hands than any of us, should you keep this up. I love a woman with a fighter’s spirit, you know.”

Ingrid simply rolled her eyes at her friend’s attempt at flirting with her. “Oh, grow up already,” she chided him. “You should be more focused on your lancing skills rather than your flirting skills.”

“Ingrid’s right, you know. In the real world, other people won’t hesitate to kill you in combat. I’m sure you remember that from the last time we sparred?”

The two students turned around to see Byleth approaching them. Ingrid offered a small curtsy to her professor, while Sylvain nearly jumped at the sight of him, an awkward smile stretched across his face. “Oh, uh, y-yeah, of course I remember,” Sylvain stammered. “How could I not? You literally sent me to the infirmary after whooping my a- er, I mean, butt so thoroughly.”

Byleth smiled as he shook his head, reminiscing on the moment. “I’m glad to see you still recall that moment,” he teased, slightly breaking out his teacher persona for just a sliver of a second. “In any case, keep up the good work, you two. I need to go check up on the people practicing swordplay at the moment. I really hope Ashe doesn’t get caught in the crossfire when Felix attempts to beat Dimitri down.”

When Byleth left the two behind, running up the hill to get to the courtyard where Ashe, Dimitri, and Felix were practicing their swordsmanship, Ingrid turned to the redhead with mild confusion. “Is everything okay, Sylvain?” she curiously asked, a tint of concern in her voice. “You seemed rather stiff when the professor came by the talk to us. And yet, at the same time... rather jumpy, as well.”

Sylvain shot her a small look before sighing and placing his hands on his hips. “Y-Yeah, everything’s been fine, Ingrid,” he told her. “It’s just that- well, how do I explain this without sounding like an idiot...?” He thought for a moment on how we wanted to phrase what he planned on saying next, before finally speaking up with a quick blurt of “I had a dream.”

“A dream?” Ingrid questioned. “It must’ve been quite a weird dream if it’s to make you as you are right now. What was it about?”

The noble stuttered for a bit. “Oh, uh- y-you see, um- I-I think it was-“ He stopped himself for a moment, and took a deep breath. “Look, it’s going to sound embarrassing, so can I ask you to not tell anyone about it? Please, Ingrid?”

The slight note of desperation in the redhead’s plea caused the blonde to offer a silent nod of agreement. “Alright then,” she promised. “I’ll keep it to myself. Now then... what was the dream about?”

“...I think I saw the professor as a girl.”

As soon as he said that, Ingrid’s eyes widened and her grip on the lance she was holding loosened, causing it to slip out of her hands and tumble down the hill until it hit one of the trees, all without her asking. She didn’t bother with it, instead opting to whisper to him “And what else?”

“W-Well... I woke up in my room,” Sylvain continued, rubbing the nape of his neck as he attempted to avoid eye contact with the girl. “I heard someone with heels walking down the hallway, and when I went to check to see who it was, I saw a beautiful woman. It... it felt like I was watching a goddess. A-And then I called out for her and ran into her. Right before I ran into her and woke up though, I saw she had a scar running down the length of her thigh; the same scar that the professor told me he had a few days ago. I-I don’t know what it means, but... it’s got to mean something. R-Right?”

Ingrid spent a good two minutes trying to wrap her head around the events of Sylvain’s dreams, before she nodded her head in understanding and gave a small “Oh” to the redhead.

“Oh? Oh? That’s all you’re going to say?” Sylvain nervously questioned. “I-I-I know it sounds ridiculous, but still...!”

“Felix was right about you, you know.”

Sylvain looked at his friend with widened eyes as she turned around and began to make her way down the hill, with him following suit. “What do you mean by that, Ingrid?” he asked, nervousness creeping up in his voice.

Ingrid simply chuckled as she stopped by the tree and crouched down to pick up her lance. “What I mean is that you’d like the professor a lot more if he was a girl,” she explained. “After all, you’re already awkward around him after a dream you had that probably won’t mean much in the long run. You’d probably look like a young schoolboy with a crush for the first time whenever the professor would be around if he was actually a girl.” Getting back up from her crouch, Ingrid began making her way back up the hill. “Now come on, let’s finish our training so we can ready for Zanado.”

“H-Hey, wait up Ingrid!” he yelled as he began to trail after her. But what Ingrid didn’t catch from Sylvain as he chased behind her was the blush of red that crept up onto his face at the thought of what she said.

...

The trek to Zanado was a painful one for many of the students, as they had to wake up before the sun even rose in the sky and traverse through the craggy Oghma Mountains to get to the abandoned village. But, after what felt to be an eternity for many of the students, they finally arrived.

“Zanado... the Red Canyon...” Byleth mused. “Lady Rhea told us that bandits would be nearby, and considering how close this place is to Remire Village, Dimitri and I may bump into some old adversaries. So let’s take a moment to review our strategy.”

“That’s a great idea, Professor,” Dimitri agreed. “I’m sure a few of us could use a refresher on the strategy. We may have forgotten about it in our wake of tiredness from getting up early and traveling such a distance.”

Byleth nodded along in agreement before pulling out a small paper from his back pocket and laying it out on the ground for everyone to see. “So, since we’re nine in total, the most logical thing to do would be to split into groups of three,” he explained in a subdued voice. “Group A will be led by Dimitri, and will consist of him, Dedue, and Felix. You three will be acting as the main line of attack against the enemies on the northern front.”

“Hmph. Letting the boar take control of frontal attacks is a smart move Professor,” Felix snarked. All Dimitri did to respond to his friend was a small huff of annoyance and a roll of the eyes.

“Group B will consist of Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe,” Byleth continued. “You guys will be following Group A, and acting as a line of support for them. I’m entrusting Mercedes with leading the group, as she’s the oldest in said group.

“Ooh, Mercie, you’re the group leader!” Annette chirped. “I’ll be sure to listen to what you have to say!” Mercedes in response let out a small laugh of pleasure, and patted the younger girl’s head.

“And finally, Group C will consist of me, Ingrid, and Sylvain, with me acting as the leader. We’ll be heading towards the western front once we pass through the bridge. I’ll give further instructions once we break off from everyone else.”

“Understood Professor,” Ingrid nodded. “We’ll do our best to follow your orders.”

Byleth took the paper and folded it before sticking it back in his pocket. “Alright then. Best of luck, everyone. Protect each other, and I’m dead serious when I say that if I find out any of you left your classmate to die, you will be expelled on the spot.” Getting up off the ground, he dusted himself and started walking. “Let’s move.”

The class followed suit down the mountainside until they stopped in front of a bridge, taking in the scenic view. “So this is the Red Canyon...” Dimitri muttered to himself. “This is my first time here. It looks so... desolate. Are we sure bandits are camping out here?”

“Oi, Boss! We got a bunch of knights coming in from the south!”

“...Yeah, they’re camping out here for sure.”

Byleth steeled himself for the coming battle, as did everyone else. “You know the plan, guys,” he called out. “Groups A and B, go forth! Group C, follow me!” The Blue Lions students charged forward across the bridge, with the members of Group A fighting against the melee-based opponents, while the members of Group B focused on protecting them from the various arrows and magic shots being aimed at them. At that time, Group C ducked over towards the western front, and hid behind an opening.

“Alright, so what’s our plan going forward, Professor?” Sylvain asked. “We don’t really have anyone acting as our line of support.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Sylvain,” Byleth quickly corrected him. “Ingrid will act as our line of defense. I saw how skilled she is with that lance, and I need you to stay alive so you can help me take down the leader.” He then quickly turned to Ingrid and looked at her. “I trust that you’ll be able to protect us from danger?” he asked.

Ingrid gave a small nod. “Of course, Professor,” she affirmed. “As a knight, it’s my duty to protect others. And as your student, it’s my duty to follow your orders. Be sure to guide me well.”

“Very well then,” Byleth responded. “Let’s get going. Dawdling will leave the rest of your classmates in danger.” Ingrid and Sylvain nodded in understanding, and the three began to make their way across the opening towards the western front.

As the three ran across the mountain’s open field, a thief saw them and began to run back to the leader, Kostas. “Boss, boss!” the thief yelled with worry. “The mercenary from Remire Village is back! And he’s with the Knights of Seiros!”

“What the hell did you just say?!” Kostas roared. “That damn mercenary is now buddies with the knight?! Bah! To hell with him then! I’ll cut his neck off his head if he tries to fight me!”

“...He doesn’t seem too happy to see you, Professor,” Sylvain commented. “Let’s get to him quick so we can get back together with Dimitri and Mercedes.”

The three charged forward, striking down the enemies ahead of them, until they had Kostas surrounded. “Give it up!” Ingrid shouted. “We have you surrounded!”

“Bah! The only time I’ll ever give up is if I’m dead! And I don’t plan on dying today!” Kostas shouted. “So go to hell! Every last one of you!”

“Then I guess we’ll have to see you there later on, huh?”

To everyone’s surprise, Sylvain had managed to sneak behind Kostas and pierce him through the back, ripping his stomach open with his lance and causing his intestines to fall out. With one last gasp of air, Kostas’ eyes rolled back into his head, and he unceremoniously fell flat onto the floor, a puddle of blood seeping out from the wound Sylvain caused. And Sylvain’s knees finally gave in, causing the noble to fall flat on his ass.

The rest of the class came running up to the group, stopping dead in their tracks when they saw the dead body in front of them. Annette let out a shrill and shoved her face into Felix’s chest, who in turn pulled her close to him as if to protect her. Ashe turned away to retch out bile upon the sight of the body, and everyone else couldn’t help but stare at the now lifeless remains of the bandit leader, wide-eyed and shocked at the gravity of death.

“...He’s... dead...” Sylvain mumbled. “He’s really... actually... dead... And I killed him...” The noble found himself curling up into a ball in an effort to soothe his worried self, only to feel an arm wrap around his shoulders and pull them closer. The arm was none other than Byleth’s, who was now sitting beside him.

“You did what you had to do Sylvain,” he said to his student in an attempt to comfort him. “The first major kill has always been - and will forever continue to be - a revelation for anyone... but know that others will be there for you, should you ever need it.” 

The redhead silently processed the older man’s words, before offering a small smile. “Thank you Professor,” he thanked. “That’s... really nice of you to say.”

Byleth simply smiled back with a look of knowingness in his eyes, before getting up and dusting himself up before extending his arm out to the noble. “Let’s get going now, shall we?” he asked. “The afternoon sun will most likely burn us alive if we stay out here for much longer.”

Sylvain let out a laugh, before reaching out for Byleth’s hand and letting the older man hoist him up onto his feet. “Yeah, I don’t exactly feel like turning into roasted human for any condors that may be lurking here, so let’s get going,” he joked. The group started making their way back to Garreg Mach through the Oghma Mountains, and Sylvain found himself walking beside Dimitri on the journey back.

“You seem to be warming up to the professor,” the blond stated. “I’m glad to be seeing that you’re getting along with him quite nicely.”

“He’s been supportive of me so far, so it’s a little hard to resent him for much. Especially after getting to know him a bit more,” Sylvain responded. “But... I can’t stop thinking about something.”

“Oh?” Dimitri asked. “What would that be?”

“...I always thought the Church of Seiros would be pure and whatnot, considering it’s an establishment of worship. But I guess even they still need to spill blood to achieve what they want.”

“...I fear that may be true for every great leader in the world. Just pray you don’t become the one to have your blood spilled, rather than you being the one to spill blood.”

“...Yeah. I’ll... try my best not to.”

...

“Woah there-! Easy girl, easy!”

“...The horse you’re riding on is a male, Sylvain.”

“Oh- er... e-easy boy...?”

Not long after returning to Garreg Mach, Byleth decided that it would be in Sylvain’s best interest to learn how to ride a horse, in order to act as the one-man cavalry unit for the Blue Lions house. The redhead didn’t have any objections, reasoning that it’d probably be for the best if he was on horseback in battle rather than acting as yet another footsoldier, and agreed to follow through with the professor’s suggestion. The two were out behind the stables, with Byleth leading the horse Sylvain was riding on around.

“How do you feel so far, Sylvain?” Byleth asked. “I know it’s a little awkward to be on horseback if you aren’t used to it, but I’m sure you’ll gradually grow to like it.”

“In all honesty Professor, this... isn’t all that bad,” Sylvain admitted. “Sure, it’s a little bumpy, and it kind of feels like someone’s kicking me in the ass every time we move, but that’s probably just because we didn’t attach a saddle to this horse.”

“I wanted you to get a sense of what it’s like to ride a horse without a saddle first, just in case it falls off during combat,” the older man explained. “But we still needed a bridle attached so I can guide you two around. Otherwise the horse may go off somewhere with you stuck on it. And that isn’t exactly something I want to think about.”

Sylvain let out a small laugh in response to Byleth’s comment. “Come on, Professor, do you really think that’ll happen to me?” he asked. “The only time that’ll happen is if the horse is spooked by something. And even then, I’m most likely going to fall off if I don’t have anything to grab onto.”

“Well, if anything happens to you like what happened to me...” Byleth mused, before falling silent.

“Oh? Is this another story of yours, Professor?” Sylvain questioned, now interested in what the older man had to share. “Come on, you can share it with me. I doubt it’s too embarrassing. Not as embarrassing as getting my ass kicked in front of a bunch of my friends by a guy I only knew for about a day, at least.”

Byleth chuckled at Sylvain’s mildly self-deprecating joke and shook his head in disbelief, earning a smile from the redhead himself. “Alright, I’ll share what happened,” he started. “It’s not as intense as the last story I shared with you, but I’ll try to keep it entertaining, at the very least.” Clearing his throat once more, he began to share the story with Sylvain.

“When I was a kid, my father tried to teach me how to ride horses in a very similar manner as to how I’m trying to teach you. He said it’d be good experience for me, even if I chose to travel by foot instead... which, in retrospect, I suppose he’s right about. Anyways, we had this exact conversation and he chose to let me travel out by myself. Everything seemed to be fine at first, until the horse got spooked by a crow flying in its face and started running off. I clung to the horse for dear life, and I ended up staying on that horse for about ten kilometers before it bucked me off and tossing me into a nearby patch of mud. The horse ran off, never to be seen again. When my father finally found me, he gave me a scolding for not listening to him before laughing and helping me wash off the mud. Those... were nice times for me. I liked those times.”

Sylvain snickered at Byleth’s story, imagining it in his mind. “I bet they’d be funny memories for someone like you,” he laughed. “You seem to be pretty close to your father.”

“Hm? Aren’t you close to yours as well?”

Byleth’s innocent question hit Sylvain in a rather sore spot of his, and his mood immediately dampened as a result. “Oh, um... no, not really,” he hesitantly denied. “I-I mean, I was as a kid, but as I got older, I just...” The redhead paused for a moment before groaning and asking “Look, can we just not talk about this right now? It’s kind of... personal.”

“Ah, sorry about that,” Byleth apologized. “I didn’t mean to touch on such a sensitive subject. I won’t pressure you to talk about it, but if you need to talk to anyone about it... I’m here for you? Okay?”

Byleth reaches his hand out to Sylvain, resting it on his thigh, causing the noble to tense up momentarily before relaxing at the sensation of comfort, and giving the older man a weary smile. “Yeah... thank you, Professor,” he said. “That means a lot to me.”

The older man smiled back and removed his hand from the noble’s thigh. “We should get going soon,” he started. “The sun’s starting to set, and Garreg Mach is a considerable distance away by foot.”

“Alright, alright, let’s get going,” Sylvain complied. “Lead the way, Professor. I will stay on top of this bad boy to entire way... or at the very least, I’ll try to.”

...

As the months went on, Byleth began to spend less time with Sylvain.

It was a gradual thing, as Sylvain had noticed; after Lady Rhea tasked the Blue Lions to take care of Lord Lonato’s rebellion in Gaspard - which, in turn, led to Lord Lonato’s demise - Byleth began to spend time with Ashe, as to both comfort him during his grievance period over his adoptive father’s death, and to help him process that Lord Lonato was planning to assassinate Lady Rhea. Then nearly everything changed when the Death Knight came into the picture.

As soon as Byleth and the Blue Lions had their fallout with the Death Knight in the Holy Mausoleum, Sylvain could see the desperation to figure out who the Death Knight truly was and how to stop them wash over Byleth. It consumed him, causing him to spend nearly every waking moment outside of class desperately trying to figure out who - or even what - the Death Knight was. The other students were worried about both the prospect of the Death Knight and the newfound obsession with them that Byleth had, and would often talk about it with one another whenever the older man was not around.

“I’m really concerned for Professor Byleth’s mental health,” Mercedes confessed. “An obsession like that cannot possibly be good for him.”

“I must concur with Mercedes on her point,” Dedue agreed. “It’s clear that the Death Knight has had a grave impact on the professor’s overall well being.”

“That’s true... It hasn’t exactly been the best time for the professor lately,” Dimitri mused. “While having some level of intrigue on the subject matter is normal, the professor... well, he’s pretty much becoming Bernadetta.”

“Bernadetta’s an introvert, you stupid boar,” Felix spat at Dimitri. “She likes to spend time alone, and it’s actually good for someone like her to spend time alone. For someone like the professor, it’s more damaging.”

“Maybe we could make something for him,” Ashe chimed in. “Something to get his mind off of everything. Maybe we could make him a cake?”

“Ooh, that sounds like a good idea!” Annette joined in. “We don’t really know what kind of cake flavor he’d like though...”

“Then perhaps one of us should go ask him,” Ingrid suggested. “The question is though... who should do it?”

“I mean... I don’t really mind doing it.”

Sylvain’s offer to ask Byleth what his favorite cake flavor took the rest of the Blue Lions students by surprise, though they weren’t necessarily against the idea. “I have no qualms with that,” Ashe spoke up.

“Y-Yeah, neither do I,” Mercedes agreed. “I was just... taken aback by it is all.”

Sylvain shrugged at the comment. “I mean, it’s not all that big of a deal,” he shrugged. “Just get in, pop the question, and then get out once I get the answer.” Behind his back, he could hear Ingrid let out a small snort that sounded like she was stifling a laugh, but chose not to focus on it.

“Very well then,” Dimitri spoke up. “Sylvain will go ask the professor what his favorite cake flavor is, then when he returns with the answer, we’ll work together to make a cake for him to enjoy. Is everyone clear on what we’re doing?” Everyone in the group nodded in unison. “Very well then. Sylvain, go get the information. Everyone else, we’ll leave for the kitchen in a bit, so start gathering your belongings if you brought any with you.”

“Roger that, Your Highness,” Sylvain bowed with a mild hint of friendly banter in his voice before exiting the room. He rested his head against the wall, letting out a long sigh of relief, before he heard something he wasn’t expecting to hear.

“Those two really seem to have gotten close... wouldn’t you guys agree?”

It was Mercedes’ voice, loud and clear. Sylvain quickly realized that he was able to listen in on everyone because of a sole brick missing in the wall that looked into the classroom. Figuring that what they would be talking about sounded interesting, the redhead decided to eavesdrop on their conversation for just a bit.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Ingrid spoke. “And it’s most definitely more than just a friendly relationship. You all heard it when he said ‘pop the question’, right?”

“Even if he fancies the professor like you’re implying Ingrid, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a major dunderhead when it comes to feelings,” Felix interjected. “The guy’s a well-known skirt-chaser; beyond simple lust, I doubt he’s dabbled in the sort of emotions you’re implying he’s feeling.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly see an issue with it,” Annette added. “Love is love, right? Mercie here was the one who taught me that, back when we were attending the Royal School of Sorcery together.”

Mercedes giggled at the ginger-haired girl’s comment. “So long as the love is one of kindness and warmth, I will fully endorse it,” she proclaimed. “Should his feelings ever be realized, I will be more than happy to support him through his romantic endeavors.”

Sylvain pulled away from eavesdropping in on the conversation and began to make his way over to the older man’s office, if anything but to escape just what it was that he was hearing. His eyes were wide with shock and his face was dusted in a dark red. The idea of a man fancying another man rattled his mind; he hadn’t ever given any attention to such a thought before. And before he realized it, he was inside Byleth’s office, with the door swung open.

“Uh- P-Professor!” Sylvain shouted, taken by surprise at his current whereabouts. “I-I-I need to ask you something!”

Byleth looked up from his stack of papers and books, with bags under his intensely reddened eyes. He seemed as if he hadn’t slept in days, which wouldn’t be all too surprising to the redhead if that was actually the case. “Yes, Sylvain?” he asked. “Make it quick; I’m trying to work here.”

“What’s your favorite c-cake flavor?!”

The older man crinkled his nose in confusion as he squinted one of his eyes. “...My favorite cake flavor?” he questioned. “Why do you want to know that?”

“O-Oh, uh, j-just curious, you know?” Sylvain stammered, laughing a bit to ease away the awkwardness. “Can’t help it sometimes!”

Byleth glared at the noble for a moment, before ducking his nose back into the paperwork and muttering out “Lemon and raspberry. Now get going.”

“R-Right! Gotcha!” Sylvain stuttered. “C-Cya later, Professor!” And, just as quickly as he had entered the room, the noble exited the room, leaving the older man alone for just a bit longer.

With his face still red, Sylvain began to make his way to the kitchen. He took the time to really think over the idea of a man being with another man in a romantic manner. He pondered how it could feasibly occur; he was taught that a man was supposed to be with a woman, and a woman was supposed to be with a man. The idea of pregnancy was out of the question for a relationship between two men, as neither would have the reproductive capabilities to give birth to a child; though it also worked as a way to end crest bloodlines, and the endless cycles of countless children by nobles without crests getting tossed aside. And, in that regard, it sounded appealing to the noble, only furthering to increase the redness on his face.

By the time Sylvain had made it over to the kitchen, the rest of the Blue Lions members had taken out everything needed for the most rudimentary of cakes, barring the actual flavoring. “Oh, welcome Sylvain!” Mercedes greeted him. “Did you manage to find out his favorite cake flavor?”

“Oh, yeah, I did,” the redhead shared with everyone, the red on his face having already dissipated. “It’s probably going to be a bit hard to make though; he said it’s lemon and raspberry cake.”

The group collectively whispered amongst themselves before Annette eventually spoke up. “Well, lemon and raspberry cake is a little hard to make...” she confessed. “But we could make a lemon cake with a raspberry compote instead! I think that’d work just fine!”

“It’s definitely worth a shot,” Felix chimed in. “I think Annette should take charge in this, since she’s the one who suggested the idea in the first place.”

The ginger-haired girl’s face turned a bright pink as she averted her eyes away from the black-haired boy. “M-Me?” she stuttered. “I-I’m not so sure about that...”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Dimitri voiced. “You’re the most capable of us with pastries, so having you lead us would be the wisest thing we can do. Besides, you should have some experience rallying us up, should the professor ever ask you to take charge in something.”

Annette slowly nodded along before a look of stern determination filled her face in a fiery blaze of glory. “A-Alright then!” she shouted, putting on the biggest bravado she could muster. “Ingrid, Mercie! Start zesting the lemons; once everything’s done, assemble the cake! Ashe, Dimitri! Start measuring out all of the ingredients for the cake batter; I’ll help out with actually making it! Dedue! Get an ice box ready; we need the cake to chill before we can assemble it together! Felix, Sylvain! Get started on the compote; it’s just sugar and mashed raspberries over heat, then strained! Everyone! Let’s do this for the professor!”

Everyone roared together as camaraderie filled the kitchen, and everyone began to work on their respective tasks. Annette went off to help Dedue with the ice box, and Felix watched her leave with a look in his eyes reminiscent of a puppy watching its owner leave.

“Awh, does baby little Felix miss his girl already?” Sylvain teased. “It’s okay to miss her; you look like a puppy while doing it.”

“Shut up,” Felix quickly snapped back. “You were red in the face when you came into the kitchen. For all I know of, you ended up making out with some hot chick and just got out of it when you came in.” While that was far from the case, Sylvain didn’t want to accidentally reveal to Felix that he had overheard everyone talking about him earlier, so he decided to just kept his mouth shut.

The time went by fast, and before everyone realized it, the cake was complete, with some added buttercream frosting and fresh raspberries to top the cake. “Well done, everyone!” Annette congratulated the others. “Let’s get this over to the professor right away! I’m sure he’s going to be super excited to see this cake from us!”

Placing the completed cake onto a tray, the Blue Lions students made their way over to the older man’s office, opening the door and letting out a loud collective “Surprise!” as the door swung open.

Byleth looked up from his work with an obvious look of annoyance written all over his face that he tried to hide, but failed to do successfully. “Yes? How can I help you guys?” he questioned. “I assume it’s something urgent if you’re all here to see me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s urgent, per se...” Annette started. “But we worked really hard on this thing, so we’d like to-!”

“Then leave.”

The cold words that came out of Byleth’s mouth shocked everyone, nearly causing the cake tray to fall out of Dedue’s hands, who was the one carrying it. Everyone either had their mouths agape or their eyes fixated in a stunned look of disbelief.

“B-But, Professor...” Annette spoke up, now with an evident glumness in her voice. “If you just try it, you’ll see-“

“What part of ‘then leave’ do you guys not understand?” Byleth hissed. “I’m busy, and I need to focus on this, so if you’re going to waste my time with long activities, don’t even bother to try.”

Seeing the ginger-haired girl’s eyes starting to well up with tears, something snapped inside of Sylvain. He marched up to the desk Byleth was sitting at, took one good look at all the books and papers stacked on top of each other on one side of the desk, and in one fell swoop, he knocked everything off the desk, sending it all flying against the wall and falling onto the floor in a scattered mess. Then, without seeing it happen, the redhead quickly found himself being held by the collar of his shirt by the older man, who was staring him down with a look on anger on his face.

“What the hell, Sylvain?!” he roared. “I was working on those! You better give me one good reason as to why you did that, or I’m going to have to expel you from the academy!”

“Because we’re worried about you, asshole!” Sylvain quickly yelled back. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve all been worried about you! You look absolutely hideous right now, like you haven’t slept in days! So we went out and made a cake for you! But nooo, you just had to shove us away, even when we’re trying to help you! Open your eyes, Professor!”

Realizing that the noble had a point, the older man, still holding onto the student’s collar, looked up and saw the cake that he had mentioned. Upon seeing it, his grip loosened significantly before letting it go altogether and pinching the bridge of his nose together with his fingers, sighing as he did so. “...You’re right,” he admitted, tiredness filling his voice. “I... haven’t slept in days. I’ve been so worried about the Death Knight for your guys’ sake, but if me worrying about them has started to impact you guys... then I’ve gone too far. I’m... sorry, everyone."

“Awh, it’s okay, Professor,” Mercedes almost immediately forgave him. “We understand you were worried on our behalf. So please let us worry about you sometimes.”

“Mercedes is right,” Dimitri agreed. “We’re your students. Therefore, we care about you. You provide us with great insight on many things, and are often there for others if they need it. We should be able to return the favor.”

Byleth offered a weary smile towards everyone before getting up from his seat. “Well, thank you for making the cake for me, everyone,” the older man thanked the students. “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to eat it tonight; I’m afraid I’ll fall unconscious any time now from exhaustion. But I sincerely appreciate the gesture. Please be sure to save some for me to enjoy another time.”

After sharing their verbal agreement with the professor to save him some of the cake, everyone in the Blue Lions house - save for Sylvain - exited the room. “Well, that was something,” he exclaimed. “Do you want me to help you clean up the mess on the floor?”

“I think you should, considering you were the one to make it in the first place,” Byleth joked. “Let’s get this over with as fast as possible.”

The two guys got down and began sorting through the mess, passing papers, files, and books between one another to assemble everything into identically sized piles. After setting the piles back on top of the desk, Sylvain placed his hands on his hips and heaved a heavy sigh. “Man, that took some time...” he commented. “But at least we got it done.” Taking a moment to breathe and to wipe away the growing sweat on his forehead, the redhead stated “Well, I’m off. I’m getting tired myself, so I’m going to go rest early. Cya, Professor.”

“Wait, Sylvain. I wanted to ask you something.”

Right before he was about to open the door and exit the room, the noble turned around and looked at the older man. “Yeah? What is it?” he asked.

“Did you ask me what my favorite cake flavor was just so you could get everyone to make me a cake?” Byleth questioned. “The timing is just too soon for it to be coincidental.”

Sylvain chuckled, rubbing the nape of his neck with one of his hands. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I asked,” he admitted. “Though we couldn’t exactly make a lemon and raspberry cake, per se; we made a lemon cake with a raspberry compote instead. I hope that isn’t too much of an issue for you.”

Byleth shook his head in response. “No, it isn’t,” he said. “Thank you, Sylvain.” Sylvain could swear that, for a split second, there was a blush on the older man’s face as he smiled at the redhead. And that smile stirred something within the noble that drove him crazy. Offering a small nod in return, Sylvain quickly exited the room and began to make his way back to his dorm room, practically running as he did so.

...

Sylvain had to prove to himself that he wasn’t attracted to guys. He had to, for his fragile pride as man wouldn’t allow him to avoid doing otherwise. And, in the typical mindset of a hormonal teenage boy who regularly flirts with girls, the most optimal method of going about that would be to masturbate and ejaculate to the idea of a woman.

By the time he closed the door to his dorm room, the noble had already unbuckled his pants, tossing them down onto the floor as his growing erection poked slightly through his underwear. Shuffling it down as well and kicking both it and the pants aside, the noble flopped onto his bed, unbuttoning his shirts so his chest laid bare for anyone to see.

Grasping his dick firmly, Sylvain began to jerk off to the idea of women in general. Their soft breasts, their rosy pink lady parts, their breathy moans of pleasure; the thought of them really started getting the noble to go faster with his session, causing him to let out small grunts of pleasure as he continued to jerk off.

But it wasn’t until long that the thought of women for the redhead began to falter.

His dick, which just moments prior was standing up perfectly straight at the mere thought of a seductive women, was beginning to wane. It shrunk and became more flaccid at such an ambiguous thought. So Sylvain tried to think of specific girls that attended the Officer’s Academy, in a desperate attempt to prove he wasn’t attracted to other guys. He thought of Dorothea’s visible cleavage, Bernadetta’s easily pliant and submissive nature, Edelgard’s near-dominating attitude, Mercedes’ tender softness and mature physique, Hilda’s laidback nature... but anything that he could think of only temporarily delayed what seemed to be the inevitable shrinkage of his dick.

And then the thought of her popped into his head.

He wasn’t it expecting it whatsoever; prior to this, the redhead had only ever seen her in his dreams. And even then, he’s never even seen her face in them. But the thought of the almost elusive woman from his dreams - the one that resembled Byleth if he were a woman - seemed to work wonders on his dick, causing it to twitch back to life and inflate to full mast. And his session resumed with conflicted feelings.

On one hand, it was Byleth that Sylvain was getting off to; even if it was the female version of him from the noble’s dreams, it would still be him regardless. But on the other hand, the woman’s physique was enticing. The way she dressed was tantalizing, what with the cleavage window in her outfit and the silky black stockings she wore that ran up the length of her thighs. And her body was just as sweet in the mind of the noble; her wide hips that seemed to be capable of giving birth to a child, the healthy and full nature of her breasts... Little was left to the imagination that she was the ideal woman to become a mother.

“Hah- F-Fuck-!”

Sylvain quickly found himself ejaculating all over his bare chest, shooting load after load after load to the thought of the female Byleth. In his mind, it was wrong; but his body was willing and practically demanded it. He found himself submitting to his carnal desires with each passing second.

After all was said and done, the redhead was a sweaty mess, his shirts still clinging around his back all wet from soaking up his sweat and his chest in desperate need of a thorough wash in the following morning. Careful as to not spill any of the cum on his chest onto the floor, Sylvain reached into his drawer and pulled out a small white towel to dry it up and hide the liquid, though it did little to mask the smell of it, should one put it up to their nose. All he could do was pray to the goddess that none of the workers for the monastery would attempt to do such a thing, lest he potentially get reprimanded by Seteth, something his desperately wanted to avoid as much as possible.

Removing the shirts off his body, Sylvain tucked himself into bed and stared out of the window into the bright moon, shining down on him. His mind finally began to register the fact that he had orgasmed to the thought of his professor. Even if the thought was of him as a girl, it was still him. All Sylvain could do was sigh in disbelief and hope that he’ll get the resolution he was looking for when he began to masturbate some other time in the near future, for all the session provided to him was even more questions for him to think about.

...

Sylvain could hardly believe the news when Byleth told the Blue Lions students what the monastery had tasked them with for the month; taking down his older brother Miklan, and retrieving the Lance of Ruin from him.

He could feel the eyes of his fellow students on him with nearly every passing moment at the monastery, as well as many of the eyes of the faculty. He could tell the faculty mostly pitied him for the gravity of the situation, but for the eyes of the students, he knew they were looking at him with scorn. It was enough to distract him from the feelings of the night where he pleasured himself to the thought of the female version of Byleth in his mind.

“Don’t think too much about what they have to say about you,” Felix told him after catching wind of what was going on. “They’re not you, so they don’t know how you feel. And you’re not as much of a lowlife piece of garbage as Miklan, so I know you wouldn’t try to do something as stupid as him. Don’t forget; he tried to kill you several times as a kid, just because he was jealous of you having a crest. That says a lot more about him than it does about you.”

When Lady Rhea had discovered Miklan and his gang of fellow bandits to be located at some nearby tower ruins, formerly known as Conand Tower, she handed over the Sword of the Creator - which was retrieved from the Death Knight at the end of their previous encounter - to Byleth, and entrusted him to take his students with him to retrieve the holy relic.

Between the time Byleth had received permission to set out to the tower ruins and actually heading to the ruins, the Blue Lions had taken in one of the Almyran workers, Cyril, into their ranks, as Byleth saw massive potential from within him. He spent a lot of time working with the young boy to make him as strong as he could with a bow, having Ashe aid him whenever he wasn’t around. An evident bond grew between the two of them, so Byleth thought it to be wise to bring the orphan along to get battle experience.

When the Blue Lions finally set out for Conand Tower, Gilbert from the Knights of Seiros was tasked with aiding them in their endeavor, as Lady Rhea knew that the lance could still prove to be a potent threat to the students, and wanted to minimize the damage as much as she could. The journey wasn’t as bad as the journey to Zanado a few months prior, but the students still needed a moment to rest before entering. Byleth took it as an opportunity to properly strategize what the group should do.

“Alright, here’s what we’ll do,” he started. “Since Gilbert is accompanying us, he and I shall act as the leaders of the groups. Group A shall consist of me, Cyril, Felix, Annette, Dedue, and Sylvain. Group B shall consist of Gilbert, Dimitri, Mercedes, Ingrid, and Ashe. Is everyone clear on that?”

“It sounds like a reasonable strategy plan,” Gilbert voiced. “But may you explain why you chose these groups? Having a kid who’s never been in a battle before he paired up with a seasoned warrior like myself would most likely make more sense, for obvious safety reasons.”

“If you’re worried about my lack of combat expertise, you’d find yourself to be sorely underestimating me,” Cyril interjected. “Prior to being brought into the Blue Lions, Shamir taught me some basic archery skills and evasive maneuvers, and it was with the help of both Professor Byleth and Ashe that my skills were honed even further.”

“It’s also a safer option to have a beginner to play offensively in combat, rather than defensively,” Byleth added. “I chose the groups so that members of Group A would charge into the tower and clear the way for Group B to follow behind, which will be acting as our defenses whilst we climb to the top. Miklan will most likely be there with reinforcements, but in an attempt to ambush us, he may have some waiting for us to arrive in order to corner us.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright...” Sylvain commented. “Dirty underhanded tactics like that are kind of his thing.”

Byleth gave the redhead a look of sympathy before speaking up once more. “We have our strategy, so let’s get started,” he spoke. “Group A, come with me. Group B, wait for a few minutes before entering.”

The members of Group A began to climb the remnants of Conand Tower, making sure to be careful as to not accidentally trigger any potential tripwires Miklan and his posse may have set up. By the time they were two flights in, they could hear the light clamor of Group B below them, finally making their way into the tower. And on the next flight, rain began to come down. At first, it was just a light pitter-patter, but it soon quickly evolved into a torrent of rainwater, crashing down on the worn out tower.

“If this tower hadn’t faced such weather conditions before, I’d probably fear of it falling apart right about now...” Annette uttered through chattering teeth. When she heard a clap of thunder coming from outside, she let out a small yelp in fear, prompting Felix to try to muffle the noise by bringing her close to his chest. It wasn’t until after he did so that he realized what he had done, and went red in the face. Cyril, being the uneducated errand boy that he was, unfamiliar with the concept of having deep and complex relationships with other people, simply scrunched up his nose in confusion and mild disgust before turning back and continuing on.

By the time the group had reached the final flight of stairs before reaching the final floor, they stopped for a moment to gather their bearings. “Alright everyone, are you ready for whatever it is you may face?” Byleth asked. Everyone in the group nodded, and the older man smiled. “Good. Know that you can retreat if you need to, but try not to unless you’re extremely wounded and in need of urgent medical care. Use the elixirs you have on you otherwise.”

As the group climbed up the final flight of stairs, Byleth reached over and placed his hand on Sylvain’s right shoulder, causing the redhead to tense up. “Are you truly okay, Sylvain?” he asked, evidently concerned for his well being. “I understand this may be a very difficult thing to do.”

Thanking the goddess that Byleth didn’t know about his masturbation session from just a few days prior, Sylvain relaxed and let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping over as a result. “I’ll... I’ll probably be fine, Professor,” he mumbled. “Just... please, try to stop me if I do anything stupid.”

Byleth gave the noble a small, reassuring smile, and nodded his head in agreement. “Of course,” he replied. “I wouldn’t want one of my students to get hurt, after all.” Before Sylvain could do anything, aside from briefly looking away dejectedly, the older man whispered to everyone “We’re here.”

The group had finally reached the topmost floor of Conand Tower, and were ready to face off against Miklan and his makeshift gang of bandits. Doing it as silently as he could, Byleth motioned for Cyril to aim at the passing guard, but as the war orphan did so, the guard saw him. “Miklan, they’re here!” the guard shouted. He was quickly silenced by an arrow through his neck from Cyril, whom shuddered as the guy’s now lifeless body fell over onto the floor as if it were a doll.

“Well, there’s no real point in staying silent any longer,” Felix pointed out. Byleth nodded and the two brandished their weapons, as the other three followed suit. “Hey! Miklan! It’s me, Felix!” the black-haired guy shouted. “I’ve come to kick your ass, you piece of shit!”

“Oh, Felix! How pleasant it is to see you’re still alive!” Miklan’s voice echoed through the tower’s chambers. “If you’re here, then that means my pathetic whelp of a little brother is here too! Tell him to get to me if he can, so I can finally kill him once and for all!”

“I won’t let you lay a hand on any of my students, you vile cretin!” Byleth roared, evidently enraged at Miklan’s threats. He charged into the tower, pleasing Felix’s desire to fight others, and the group began to fight against the horde of bandits working under Miklan. As they did so, Group B was finally coming up to the top, being tailed by half a dozen bandits.

“Gods, these guys are tough!” Dimitri exclaimed, worn out from all the running and fighting. “At least we’ve finally made it to the top of the tower though!”

“Oh wow, is the Crown Prince of Faerghus here as well?!” Miklan loudly asked. “What a pleasure it will be to personally humiliate you and take your life in front of your dear friends!”

As the second group fended off the bandits one by one behind them, they were too preoccupied to notice the other two hanging on the side of one of the walls, and they managed to get the jump on Mercedes. She squealed in fear as Gilbert jumped in right in front of her, narrowly blocking their daggers from striking her. “It’s an ambush!” he yelled. “Ashe, strike them down!”

“Don’t worry sir, I got this!” Ashe proclaimed. He managed to snipe the first one with ease, but a mysterious arrow came from closer to the center of the tower and struck the second guy. The group turned their focus to see Cyril, who ushered them to follow him, running off deeper into the tower. “That’s where everyone must be!” Ashe reasoned. “Come on, they might need us!”

Both of the groups met up in front of the stairwell that led up to the area where Miklan was at. “This is it, everyone,” Byleth shared. “Let’s be careful with him. He has a Hero’s Relic in his possession, and we don’t know how powerful he may be. Therefore, let’s-“

“Sorry, but this is something important... something between me and my brother.”

Without waiting for anyone, Sylvain bolted up the stairs, ignoring the pleas of discouragement from everyone else. He found himself in what seemed be reminiscent of an empty throne room once he reached the top of the stairs. And, standing in the middle, was none other than Miklan, holding the Lance of Ruin in his hand.

“So, you’ve come for me, you crest-bearing fool,” Miklan taunted his younger brother. “The question is, though... why?”

“I’ve come to take back the Lance of Ruin, Miklan,” Sylvain responded. “Please, just hand it over and leave. I don’t want to humiliate you... but I will if I have to.”

Upon hearing the redhead’s proclamation, the bandit leader bursted out into a dry laughter. “Humiliate? Humiliate! What makes you think you can humiliate me? What makes you think that you can humiliate me even further by disgracing my entire existence with yours?!”

“I never asked to be the one to bear this stupid crest, you know!” Sylvain retorted. “It’s a living hell with this crest! I can’t tell if people are nice to me out of sincerity, or because they want something from my crest! I’d quite literally hand it over to you if I could! So quit being a horse’s ass and just hand over the damn relic!”

By then, Miklan was fuming. “Oh, so living with the crest is a hell all on its own, huh?!” he asked, his voice unhinged and teeming with unbridled rage. “Well, guess what?! It’s a hell of a lot worse without one! At least you get warm food! At least you get baths! At least you have money! At least you don’t have to grit your teeth and bear with the cold world outside of the castle in the Sreng winter night! And at the very least, you don’t have to live in shame, knowing that you could’ve been something great, but life dealt you a shitty hand instead and took everything away from you!” The bandit leader’s grip on the relic tightened, and he pulled it closer to him. “So do me a favor and just die already, you ungrateful little twerp!”

It was at that moment that something began to come out of the Lance of Ruin.

It wasn’t a noticeable thing at first; everyone was too focused on the clash of words between brothers on the pains of being born with and without a crest. But soon, the thing became too apparent to ignore. It was a sort of primordial ooze that leaked out of the crest insignia on the relic, resembling that of tar. But unlike tar, the ooze began to crawl up Miklan’s arm.

By the time it reached halfway up the older brother’s forearm, he was already panicking, trying to tear away at the ooze to no avail. He screamed in fear as the instinct to survive kicked in for him, but anything he tried to do to the ooze only caused it to spread across his body and cover him faster. By the time his entire being was engulfed in the black ooze the relic emitted, it enlarged him, shaping him into what resembled a demonic creature, before the ooze cracked off his new form to reveal that the relic had turned Miklan into a hideous dragon.

Everyone in the Blue Lions watched in absolute fear as the few bandits Miklan had left standing began to run away, save for two who stood there in fear. With one of them, the beastly form Sylvain’s older brother had turned into tossed them out of the tower to his ultimate demise, and with the other, their entire upper torso was bitten off and swallowed in one go, leaving only a pair of legs to flop over onto the floor and bleed out.

“W...What the hell... is that thing?!” Dimitri asked. “Th-That thing took over Miklan’s body! W-We have to do something!”

“Everyone, stand back!” Gilbert shouted. “We don’t know what this... thing can do!” Just then, the beast roared and made eye contact with Sylvain, who was standing there dazed and dumbfounded at what his own brother had just turned into. The beast ran up to the redhead and tried to bite his head off, but in the nick of time, Byleth had blocked it with the Sword of the Creator.

“Sylvain, snap out of it!” the older man yelled. “Get behind Gilbert! It isn’t safe for you here! Sylvain!”

The redhead was brought back to reality and quickly scampered off behind the knight’s shield with the rest of his classmates. He crouched as he watched the older man fend off the beast, and let out a small whimper of worry.

“Guys, we have to do something,” he quickly stated. “I-If we don’t, the professor’s going to get hurt!”

“We know, but we don’t exactly have one right now!” Ingrid snapped. “If we had something, I’d be willing to try it, but at this point, we’re going to need either a genius or a miracle to help us out!”

“...I think I may have something, actually.”

Everyone’s attention quickly turned over to Dimitri, who was sitting on an idea. “At this point, anything works Your Highness,” Dedue affirmed to him. “What’s your idea?”

Dimitri sat on it for just a tad bit longer before sharing with the rest of the students. “Okay, so here’s what we’ll do; Ashe and Cyril, you two will need to unload a barrage of arrows into the beast’s eyes to blind them. Annette, you need to cast any type of black magic you may have into the mouth; wind, fire, thunder... anything, really. Mercedes, you’ll act as our medic, should anything go awry. Everyone else will chip away at the beast until it falls.”

“While I’d argue about better ways to go about this, we’re kind of on a tight schedule here, so I have no qualms for now about this,” Felix said. “Let’s just make sure this things works, or else we’ll going to become that thing’s next meal.”

Quickly putting the plan into action, both Ashe and Cyril unleashed hell from their bows onto the beast’s eyes, striking each one with accuracy, causing black ooze to leak out from them. As the others rushed in to attack from the sides, Annette shot all of the magic spells she had on her, going through tome after tome after tome to help out with the cause. Byleth, catching on the plan everyone else had in place, began to hack away at the beast. And finally, the beast fell.

As the monstrous creature toppled over, the black ooze from earlier spilling out into various puddles of it around its limp body, the body itself turned the same color as the ooze before dissolving into thin air. All that remained of the beast was the Lance of Ruin, and besides that, Miklan’s now dead body.

Upon seeing his older brother dead, Sylvain dropped to his knees and hands, and stared at the body. It was lifeless, motionless. He was dead. And he had killed him. The two were never close, but they were still kin at the end of it all.

And so, Sylvain cried warm, heavy tears, mourning the loss of his brother. The only thing that anyone could do was watch him as he let the tears flow down his face and fall onto the floor.

...

“The goddess truly has blessed you and your students with her divine protection whilst you were on your expedition. It is thanks to her that you all made it back safe and sound, with the Lance of Ruin in your hands.”

Rhea, Seteth, and Byleth had all come together to discuss what had occurred at the remnants of Conand Tower in the archbishop’s hall. Rhea herself had a gentle smile on her face as she spoke.

“From what I’ve heard from Gilbert, you did an exceptional job, Byleth,” Rhea lauded the professor with praise. “Not only were you able to protect your students from the forces of Miklan and his bandits, you were also able to take down the beastly creature Miklan had turned into. You performed excellently as a professor, a guardian, a tactician, and a knight. Well done.

“I was only doing my part as their professor,” Byleth stated. “Their safety was my number one priority, especially for Cyril, who hasn’t ever been in a proper battle before, and Sylvain, who was going into the whole ordeal with emotional baggage attached to him.” The cerulean-haired man let out an audible sigh. “I can only pray that he may recover from this grieving period.”

“...Perhaps we should fetch him to see how he’s doing,” Rhea stated. “Seteth, please go fetch him and bring him to us, so we may check up on his well being.”

“As you wish, Lady Rhea,” Seteth obliged. Bowing to the archbishop briefly, he made his way out of the hall, leaving Rhea and Byleth by their lonesome.

Rhea sighed as soon as the door behind Seteth closed. “Sometimes, it feels so suffocating when he’s around...” she chuckled. “I understand he has the best of intentions, but constant uptight behavior makes him come across to others as distant, and perhaps even a tad cold.” She stopped talking to herself, and instead turned to focus on Byleth. “I never asked you how you were. So... how are you?”

Byleth let his shoulders droop a bit before answering with “By all accounts, I should probably be resting right now. But otherwise, I’m fine. I’ve only sustained mild nicks and scratches from the mission, if you’re concerned with that.”

“It pleases me to hear that your overall well being is fine at the moment,” Rhea responded. “Though, do try to get some rest; I had been informed about you worrying about the Death Knight late into several nights, studying records and files to find anything on them. Should they ever show up once more, know we will shall aid you in your encounter with them.”

Seteth soon returned with Sylvain, who had evidently been crying a lot as of late; his face was a flushed red, and his eyes were puffy. If one were to look closely, they could also see the dried up marks of the tears that ran down his face. Rhea offered him a look of sympathy. “H-Hello Lady Rhea,” Sylvain began, evidently trying to keep himself together. “I heard that you called for me. Did you need something?”

“Oh, dear child, I called for you to see how you’ve been fairing as of late,” Rhea spoke. “Though judging by your overall demeanor, things haven’t been the best for you.”

Sylvain dryly laughed, before choking up with tears running down his face once more. “It’s true, I haven’t exactly been having the best time of my life as of late,” he started. “My brother’s dead. And even though he hated me and wanted to kill me, he was still my brother. My own kin. And I... I-I’m the one who killed him.”

Rhea folded her arms gently as sorrow washed over her face. “I know exactly how it feels, dear child,” she told him in an effort to comfort him. “I lost my mother at a young age. And at that time, I would’ve done anything in my power to have seen her one more time. Just... one more time. That’s all I wanted. But alas, the hands of time wouldn’t allow for it, so I had to move on. But the memory of her still lingers within my mind, and it drives me to do what I do today. So don’t forget about your brother; always remember him.”

Sylvain let tears flow even more down his face as he nearly choked on them, before he could cry no more. “Th-Thank you...” he stuttered through small hiccups. “Thank you so much...”

Rhea shot the noble a smile of comfort before turning over to Byleth. “Now then, we must return the Lance of Ruin back to House Gautier,” she began. “So, if you would be so kind as to hand it over to me, that would be wonderful.”

“...Actually, why don’t we just give it to Sylvain?”

Byleth’s proposition stunned everyone in the group, including Sylvain, who wasn’t expecting the older man to do something like that on his behalf. “Are you... questioning Lady Rhea’s authority?” Seteth asked Byleth, enraged at the suggestion. “I highly suggest you pick your next words carefully, or else you may receive a divine punishment for going against the archbishop herself.”

“Come now, Seteth, it’s not as if he’s attempting to overthrow the church,” Rhea said in an attempt to ease the man’s nerves. “Now then Byleth, why should I allow Sylvain to handle the Hero’s Relic, instead of returning it to House Gautier?”

“Well, for starters, Sylvain is next in line to the throne for House Gautier,” Byleth began explaining. “Once his father steps down from the role, he will become the next margrave, which will mean the Lance of Ruin will ultimately fall into his hands sooner or later. And unlike his brother Miklan, Sylvain possesses the crest of Gautier, meaning he’ll be able to wield the relic without having to worry about the weird ooze coming out of it and turning him into a beast. Should it fall into the hands of others, it may cause several beasts to pop up unprecedentedly.”

Rhea mulled on the idea for a bit before speaking up. “You do make a rather good point,” she agreed. “However, it is ultimately not my place to decide if Sylvain gets to keep it, nor is it yours. That falls onto Sylvain himself.” Her attention turned over to the redhead. “So, dear child... what is it that you wish to do? Do you wish to let us return the relic to House Gautier for safekeeping? Or do you wish to keep it for yourself?”

Sylvain stood there, silently thinking about what he should do, before finally coming to a decision. “I... think I’m going to keep it,” he answered. “Like Professor Byleth said, the lance will inevitably fall under my protection sooner or later, and I’d rather be acquainted with it now than to hold off on it until later.”

“If that is your decision, I shall not argue against it,” Rhea agreed. She handed over the relic to the redhead, and he held onto it tightly. “Just be sure to use it for the purposes of good.” Sylvain nodded in agreement.

“If that is all to be said, I believe now would be a good time to adjourn this discussion,” Seteth spoke up. “Gilbert has already told the others to keep the matters of what happened at Conand Tower a secret, as to not spark any potential hysteria within the denizens of Garreg Mach. We expect you two to comply to this as well.”

“Of course,” Byleth quickly stated. “I understand the need to hide such important information for the safety of everyone. Therefore, we shall comply with your demands.”

“Very well,” Rhea spoke. “You two are dismissed. Stay safe.”

Both Byleth and Sylvain walked out of the hall, with Seteth making sure that they were fully outside before closing the door on them. Byleth then turned over to Sylvain. “My offer still stands if you want to talk about what’s on your mind,” he informed the redhead. “And I figure that it may be best to get it off your chest now before it combusts from within you.”

Sylvain thought on it, seeming hesitant to agree at first, before ultimately giving in. “Alright, I’ll do it,” she agreed. “But let’s at least do it over tea. I like Bergamut tea the most, so have a pot ready in about an hour. I’ll meet you at the courtyard by then.”

Byleth nodded, seeming quite giddy about it. “Very well then,” he complied. “I shall have a pot of Bergamut tea and some pastries ready for us.”

“Alright then,” the redhead acknowledged. “See you in an hour, Professor.” The two split off from there, getting ready to do their own things; Byleth started preparing the tea and pastries for the conversation, and Sylvain went to go hide the relic in his dorm room. When he finally got to his room, he stuffed the relic behind the wooden closet in his dorm, washed his face with the small basin of water and cloth provided to him, and began to make his way to the courtyard to meet up with the older man.

...

It was a date. In nearly every sense of the word, Byleth had practically asked Sylvain out on a date; or rather, Sylvain had turned Byleth’s suggestion to chat into a date with his demand for tea. But the fact didn’t become apparent to the noble until he met up with the older man in the courtyard.

A table was set up with two accompanying chairs nearby a bed of flowers, with an umbrella attached to a stand nearby as to prevent the late afternoon from beaming down on everyone. A small stand of pastries sat at the side of the table, filled with an assortment of danishes, scones, and macarons. In the middle was the kettle with the tea in it, with an accompanying pitcher of what the noble presumed to be milk, as well as a small container of sugar cubes and a bowl of thinly sliced lemon wedges. Fine chinaware sat in front of both seats for both the teacups and the pastries, as well as gilded silverware. And sitting in one of the seats was none other than Byleth himself.

The older man noticed the noble from the corner of his eye, and turned his focus over to him. “You made it,” he said. “I’m glad. Have a seat.” He motioned over to the chair adjacent to him, and the redhead made his way over to the chair, sitting down and positioning himself in it. The cerulean-haired man picked up the kettle. “Would you like some tea?” he offered.

“O-Oh, um, sure,” Sylvain agreed. Offering his teacup out to the older man, the professor filled the cup up with what appeared to be a strong brew of Bergamut tea. Adding a sugar cube to the cup, the noble stirred it with a nearby tablespoon before taking a sip. When he did, his eyes wide with shock. The brew was strong, just as he figured, but it was also surprisingly soft and easy on the taste buds. The way it went down his throat felt like velvet on the hand. “W-Wow...” Sylvain uttered, stunned at the taste of the tea. “This is... really good.”

“I read up on the traditional Bergamut recipe, but I changed some stuff in it to make it more easy on the throat,” Byleth revealed. “I knew you’d been crying recently, so I wanted to make something palatable for you. I hope the altercations are okay with you.”

“Oh, y-yeah, they’re fine with me,” Sylvain answered. “If we’re being honest, I actually kind of like your style of brewing better. And it’s way better than my attempt at brewing tea, anyway; I don’t think I’ve ever been yelled at more in my life than by the kitchen maid back at home when I tried making tea without anyone supervising me.”

Byleth snickered at the small story by Sylvain, causing the redhead to take notice of how his cheeks seemed to puff up slightly whenever he laughed, and blushing a bit as a result. “Well, I hope that was a good learning experience for you, Sylvain,” Byleth wished. He reached over and poured some milk into his tea, as well as plopping in a small lemon wedge.

“You know, I never really took you for the type of guy to drink tea, Professor,” Sylvain admitted. “I always figured you’d be more of a coffee sort of person.”

“Oh, I am actually,” Byleth confessed. “But I’m fine with tea, so it’s not like I’m going to enjoy some while we discuss your feelings.”

Sylvain’s mood slightly shifted as he became more forelorn. “Oh, right... that’s what we’re here to discuss,” he mumbled. “Guess we should probably start this, huh?”

“We don’t have to start it right away, you know,” Byleth retorted. “This is about you opening up to me on your own terms and conditions; I can’t force you to say anything you don’t want to say, nor will I ever force you to do so. But I do want you to be comfortable enough to open up to me at some point in the future. I you need me to... I can wait for you.”

The kindness radiating from the older man’s words caused the noble to blush, and attempt to mask it with the act of him taking another sip of his tea. But figuring that taking too long to sip would come off as being suspicious, he set down his cup and cleared his throat. Taking a moment to compose himself before spilling everything, Sylvain then began to share his thoughts and feelings with Byleth.

“So, you know how Miklan’s my older brother?” Sylvain began. “We share the same father, Margrave Gautier. But when it was discovered that I carried the crest of Gautier and he did, my father abandoned Miklan. My best guess as to where he lived after that was on the nearby continent of Sreng. He’d occasionally pop up to try to kill me, but it very obviously didn’t ever work, since I’m still alive and kicking. I’d have given the crest to him if I physically could. This life of an heir is just so damn suffocating.”

“Suffocating?” Byleth asked. “In what way?”

Sylvain dryly laughed to himself and threw in a quick “Oh yeah, you didn’t know about your crest until recently... lucky you”, before continuing with his story. “As the heir to House Gautier, I genuinely can’t tell friend from foe half of the time. Most people I meet are usually only interested in me because of my nobility and my crest. Men want to befriend me, women want to marry me... it’s an absolute hassle to deal with. I know I’m a good for nothing scoundrel, but the fact of the matter is, at the end of the day, I’m a noble, a bearer of a crest, and the heir to one of the more influential houses in the Kingdom of Faerghus. People are willing to overlook any and all of my flaws, so long as they can get their hands on me.” He let out a groan and spread his hands across the length of the table as he flopped his head down. “Maybe that’s why I’m such a damn womanizer...” he mumbled. “Maybe I just want to find someone who’ll like me for me, and not for my crest or status.”

“I firmly believe you’ll find someone like that someday, Sylvain.”

Feeling a hand on top of one of his, the redhead looked up to see the older man giving him a gentle and warm smile. “I’m terribly sorry for feeling that way about others, Sylvain. I really am,” he started. “But I know you’ll find the perfect partner sometime in the future. Your hopes and dreams are all grounded and realistic, and someday, someone will come into your life and make you feel loved. They’ll stand by your side and cherish you for who you truly are as a person, through thick and thin, until the end of time. Forget about all of your nobility and crest nonsense; they’ll love you for you. I firmly believe that... because you deserve to have someone like that in your life.”

The older man’s words made the noble blush even hard, not even having the time to cover it up before he noticed. “P-Professor, you can’t just say stuff like that...” Sylvain grumbled. “It might give any onlookers the wrong idea about... us.”

Byleth cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Hm? What ideas might they have about us?” he questioned. “I’m merely a professor comforting their student is all.”

The blush on Sylvain’s face grew even redder than it already was. “N-Not to other people!” the redhead hissed. “They might think we’re... w-we’re... dating...”

Upon hearing the last word, Byleth’s face turned red in return, and he let out a small “Ah” before pulling back his hands, which a motion Sylvain sorely underestimated how much he hated.

“I-I mean, just think about where we are,” Sylvain pointed out, extending his hands to his sides. “We’re right by a bunch of flowers, having tea and stuff together. Add some physical contact to that mix, and it quickly becomes a recipe for disaster.” He groaned in frustration before getting up from his chair. “Forget it; I’m heading back to my room before anyone spots us.”

The cerulean-haired professor looked saddened when the words came out of the noble’s mouth, but he nodded in understanding. “Very well then,” he complied. “Take it easy, Sylvain.”

“Y-Yeah...” Sylvain acknowledged. “Cya.” He started making his way out of the area, but briefly stopped and turned his head to look at Byleth.

“H-Hey... Professor?”

“Yes Sylvain?”

“...Thanks... f-for everything.”

“...You’re welcome, Sylvain.”

Getting the closure to the discussion that he so desperately needed, Sylvain marched back to his dorm room, slamming the door shut behind him. Looking at the back of his hand where Byleth had rested his palm on, the redhead circled it with two fingers before noticing that he had a small tent forming in his pants. He threw himself against the wall and fell over, sitting against it, almost curled up into a ball.

“...Gods... why am I like this...?” he grumbled to himself. “I should be like this with girls... not another guy. What’s even going on with me anymore...?”

...

The next time Byleth and the Blue Lions encountered the Death Knight, it was a grim experience.

Students across the Officer’s Academy were going missing, one by one, and eventually, it was discovered that Seteth’s younger sister, Flayn, had gone missing as well. Seteth enlisted Byleth and the Blue Lions students to investigate the matter and rescue her as soon as they could. Their investigations led them to discover Manuela attacked in Jeritza’s room, and a secret passageway that led down to some catacombs. Since Dimitri was busy aiding Hanneman for treating Manuela, Byleth had requested the aids of both Catherine and Shamir for traversing the secret passageway.

As soon as they entered, the group discovered Flayn’s unconscious body, and another girl whom Catherine recognized as being Monica, a student from the former year who had disappeared right before graduation under mysterious circumstances. Bit by bit, the group managed to pick off the Death Knight’s goons, which enraged them. But before they could do anything to the group, another mysterious figure showed up.

“Pull back, Death Knight,” they ordered. “You’re having too much fun right now.” The Death Knight obliged to their command and teleported away, leaving the masked figure alone. They turned and spoke to Byleth. “Our paths shall cross once more,” they ominously shared. “And I will not hesitate to strike you down, should it prove to be necessary. I am the Flame Emporer... the light that will ignite revolution all across Fódlan.” They managed to teleport away before Shamir’s throwing knife could strike them.

After returning to the main parts of Garreg Mach, Catherine and Shamir reported on their suspicions of Jeritza being the Death Knight, the catacombs hidden underneath his room, and the existence of the Flame Emporer. The rest of the group took Flayn and Monica over to the infirmary, where they nursed the two girls back to full health.

Not long after Monica returned to the Black Eagles, Flayn began demanding that Seteth allow her to join Byleth and the rest of the Blue Lions, sharing that she’d like to learn how to defend herself, should an incident like the kidnapping ever occur again. While Seteth was initially hesitant to agree to it, he finally gave in and allowed her to join the rest of the Blue Lions under the condition that she be kept out of the Battle of Eagle and Lion. Byleth, who was more than willing to take on another disciple after training Cyril, agreed to it.

The month had passed, and the time for the Battle of Eagle and Lion to take place had finally come. The three houses travelled over to Grounder Field, as all the onlookers - Rhea, Byleth, Manuela, Hanneman, Seteth, Flayn, and Cyril - watched on the sidelines. An impromptu roof was made with a tarp and some stilts, and everyone was given a small container of water and a chair to sit in as they watched the battle unfold.

“My, each year, these battles always seem to become such motivators for the students,” Rhea reminisced. “It truly warms my heart to see them enjoying themselves during this. Professors, what are your thoughts on the battle? Which house do you believe will come out on top?”

“Well, I don’t want to toot my own horn here, but I’d like to believe that the Black Eagles will win the battle this year,” Manuela spoke up. “And I’m not saying that without reason either; we have nine students in this battle thanks to Monica’s involvement, which raises our numbers above both the Blue Lions and Golden Deer houses, which only comprise of eight members each.”

“Numbers aren’t everything, Manuela,” Hanneman interjected, causing the woman to slightly furrow her brows in frustration. “I know my students are quite mischievous, and that behavior is exactly what they’ll apply to battle, much like as they’ve already done before. Trickery is their forte, and as such, they have the element of surprise on their side.”

“Surprises can backfire at times, you know,” Manuela snapped back. She then turned her attention over to Byleth. “Say, Byleth,” she cooed. “Which house do you believe would come out on top; the Black Eagles, or the Golden Deer?”

“The Blue Lions, of course.”

“...That wasn’t an option.”

“...I am aware of that.”

Both Cyril and Flayn bursted our into laughter at the cerulean-haired man’s deadpan reaction as he responded to the woman, with Flayn latching onto Seteth’s arm. “Professor Byleth, I never knew you could be so funny!” Flayn laughed. “You must teach me some jokes soon!”

Byleth looked over at Flayn and offered a warm smile. “Of course,” he agreed. “I’ll be sure to teach you all the jokes I know.”

The laughter slowly began to cede, causing Rhea to speak up. “Professor Byleth, if you don’t mind me asking, why is it that you believe your house will be declared the victors at the end of this battle?” she questioned. “I know you aren’t the type of person to boast about it over mere sentimentality, but rather, you hold a sense of logic to it.”

“Yes, that is quite an astute observation, Lady Rhea,” Hanneman commended. “I must admit that I am curious as well. May you share your reasons?”

Byleth thought on it for a moment. “Well, there’s actually a multitude of reasons,” he started. “So I’ll just go through each of them one by one. First are the cavalry students; in my house, both Ingrid and Sylvain are cavalry, while Black Eagles only has Ferdinand and Golden Deer only has Leonie. It’s also worth mentioning that Ingrid is a pegasus knight, giving her an aerial advantage over everyone else.”

“That’s true, being in the air does help quite a bit...” Manuela thought aloud. “The only people that may reach them are archers, and the only archers on the field right now are Bernadetta, Ashe, and Claude.”

“Precisely. The second point is one I think you’d like, Hanneman; it’s about crests,” Byleth continued.

“Oh? Crests, you say?” Hanneman questioned. “Then do share what you’re line of reasoning it; you have me quite intrigued.”

Byleth nodded. “Out of all the students on the field, two students from the Blue Lions don’t possess crests, while three from the Golden Deer and four from the Black Eagles don’t.”

“Ah, yes, it slipped my mind that Mercedes held the minor crest of Lamine...” Hanneman lamented. “But what in regards to Lysithea, then? She herself possesses two crests; the major crest of Gloucester and the minor crest of Charon."

“Edelgard possesses two crests as well, Hanneman,” Manuela spoke up. “She possesses the major crest of Flames and the minor crest of Seiros. It really makes you wonder how both of the dual-crest wielders this year are female and possess white hair. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“...Now that you mention it, that is rather peculiar,” Rhea commented, evidently realizing the situation at hand. “Perhaps we should look into this. Seteth, within the upcoming month, I’d like for you to look into the matter more. Hanneman, as our resident crestology expert, I’d like for you to assist him on the matter.”

“Ooh, that might not be a good idea, Lady Rhea,” Cyril spoke up. “Hanneman used to bother Lysithea a lot when the two first met and constantly asked her questions about her dual-crest wielding nature, so she avoids him a lot outside of lectures whenever possible. Getting her to cooperate with this may prove to be more than a bit difficult to do.”

Upon hearing the war orphan’s words, the crestologist sighed in defeat. “It’s true... Lysithea regularly tries to avoid me these days...” he mumbled in sadness. He swirled the container of water in his hand. “I do wish I had some tea to make myself feel better...” he mused. “A nice cup usually lifts my mood.”

“U-Um... I actually brought a few pre-made tea bags with me, in case anyone wanted to steep it in their water,” Cyril spoke up. “I don’t have any way to heat up the water, but the least I could do is offer you some tea bags for you to enjoy, since I’m the one who made you feel all down and whatnot.”

Hanneman was taken back by the surprising gesture from the young boy, and thanked him for it. “What blends did you pack, Cyril?” he questioned.

Pulling out the small box of tea bags from the equipment everyone brought, he sorted through the various bags before declaring “We have a cinnamon blend, an Albinean berry blend, a lavender blend, an almond blend, and a rose petal blend.”

“I’ll take the cinnamon blend, thank you,” Hanneman requested. Cyril handed a bag to him and he plopped the bag into his container of water, waiting for it to steep. “All I’ll need to do is add some heat to the water, and it should be ready in a few minutes.”

“Ooh, if you need me to do fire magic for you, let me try!”

Hanneman’s container was snatched out of his hands by Flayn, who promptly set herself down on the grass in front of the professor with a tome in her lap, and set a small ember ablaze in the center of her palm, which she held underneath the container. “My, Flayn, I didn’t realize you knew how to wield fire magic,” Hanneman stated, impressed with her.

Not looking away from the flame, the girl nodded in excitement. “I do now!” she chirped. “Professor Byleth taught me how to after I returned from being kidnapped!”

“You taught her how to wield fire magic?!”

Seteth’s roar of anger shocked everyone, including Flayn, who accidentally let a small ember fall out of the flame and scorch a blade of grass beside her that Hanneman spotted and stomped out with the heel of his shoe. The roar seemed to have caught the attention of some of the students fighting, as they stopped to look over at the group. “Uh, is everything okay?” Raphael shouted at them. “It sounded like you guys were arguing!”

“We’re fine, don’t worry!” Flayn shouted back. “Please continue to fight!” Raphael gave the group a thumbs up to acknowledge Flayn’s words, only to soon be struck down by a blast of dark magic by a passing Hubert, who seemed to be cackling maliciously. Many of the onlookers winced in pain. “That looked quite painful...” the girl commented. “I hope that he’ll be alright.”

Seteth shook his head and turned his attention back to Byleth. “How could you do such a thing?!” he asked. “What if she gets hurt?! Gods, if she ends up injuring herself, may the Progenitor God herself hold me back against you, for I will-!”

“It was her decision,” Byleth flatly told the green-haired man. “We held a one-on-one session where she tested out various weapons to see what felt most comfortable for her to use, and she ultimately decided to use tomes over anything else. It also falls in line with your desire to have her out of harm’s way whilst still engaged in combat; mages in general have a larger range than most others, like swordsmen and lancers. I’m just doing what you both want.”

Seteth, taken aback by the blue-haired man’s words, stood up and stormed off to behind the makeshift building, grumbling as he did so. Rhea lightly giggled. “Seteth cares immensely for Flayn, so I’m not surprised to see him worry for her so much,” she smiled. “Perhaps we all need a figure like that in our lives in some manner.”

The group silently watched the battle unfold for a bit longer; more and more people were dropping out of it, but all of the house leaders were still partaking in the battle. Seeing Edelgard and Dimitri clash with one another caused Manuela to realize something. “Oh right, you had more to say about your reasoning, Byleth!” she exclaimed.

“Ah, did you?” Hanneman questioned, evidently concerned about forgetting the rest of Byleth’s explanation. “My sincerest of apologies, Byleth. I was not aware you had more you wanted to share.”

Byleth shook his head. “I only have one more point I want to make, and it isn’t a really big one,” he explained. “However, I think it’s something worth addressing. There’s a Hero’s Relic out on the field; more specifically, Sylvain has his family’s relic with him.”

“Ah, that explains how he’s faring so well right now,” Manuela acknowledged. “He’s the only cavalry member left out on the field right now; Ferdinand and Leonie both dropped out around the same time.”

“Indeed,” Hanneman agreed. “Since he wields the minor crest of Gautier, Sylvain is capable of using his Hero’s Relic to its fullest power, thus making him one of the strongest people on the field.” He took a sip of his now fully-steeped tea, and smiled. “My, you did a wonderful job Flayn,” he commended her. “Thank you for offering your services. And thank you, Cyril, for offering me a tea bag.” Cyril rubbed the nape of his neck in embarrassment while Flayn giddily laughed at the crestologist’s thanks.

“He does seem to be able to use it quite efficiently,” Rhea observed, watching Sylvain take down Hubert with a quick swipe of the lance. “If he isn’t taken down soon, the tides of the battle may turn in favor of the Blue Lions.”

Much like how Rhea had predicted, Sylvain’s capabilities with the Lance of Ruin greatly aided the remaining members of the Blue Lions on the field, and they were able to dominate the competition, thus becoming the victors of the Battle of Eagle and Lion. Everyone congratulated each other in a sportsmanlike manner, before the house leaders and professors congregated with one another to discuss the events of the battle.

“That was quite a fun battle to partake in,”

Edelgard began. “A three-way fight like that helps add a layer of severity to the already severe competition, which I thoroughly enjoyed.”

“Yeah, it really kept me on my toes,” Claude nodded along, keeping his hand pressed against where his stomach had been slightly cut. “I seriously wasn’t expecting Petra to be the absolute speed demon that she was. You have to give her my regards for this cut; I’m sure it’s going to turn into a really sick scar.”

“Is how cool the scar will be really the only thing on your mind, Claude?” Hanneman chided the brown-haired boy. “Come now, something else must’ve been fascinating to you.”

Claude merely shrugged. “Not much comes to my mind,” he admitted. “I was mostly camping out in the trees until I fell down and was hunted by Petra. Again, absolute speedster.”

Edelgard slightly puffed up her chest in pride. “Petra has been such a valuable asset to the Black Eagles, and I’m extremely happy for her to be here on Fódlan with us at the Officers Academy,” she stated. “I can only hope this will further the Adrestian Empire’s relationship with Brigid even more.”

“I wish I could say the same with Faerghus and Sreng,” Dimitri lamented. “After they caught news of what happened with Miklan, the people of Faerghus started blaming Sreng for keeping him alive after Margrave Gautier got rid of him. And since then, things haven’t exactly been great at the border of the two nations.”

“That sounds like a you problem then,” Claude shrugged off. He was promptly met with a swift yet stern elbow jab to the gut by Edelgard.

“In any case, congratulations on the victory, Dimitri,” Edelgard said to the prince. “Professor Byleth must’ve been a wonderful professor if he could just show up one day and help your house surpass both of ours in combat. And doing so all within the span of only a few months... absolutely remarkable. I suppose the skills of a professional mercenary aren’t to be scoffed at.”

“...I understand you mean well with your words, but you make it sound as if our house was weak to begin with,” Dimitri pointed out. “Though, you are right to some degree; Professor Byleth really did help us get through some serious situations. I doubt neither Ashe nor Sylvain would be okay after having to deal with such... personal events, if it weren’t for him.”

Claude nodded along in understanding. “It really only takes one person to help pull others out of the darkness sometimes,” he commented. “And for them, that one was the professor.”

“While I do appreciate you guys singing praise about me while I’m around, it’s arousing a little suspicion how neither of you are talking about your own professors,” Byleth spoke up, directly addressing Edelgard and Claude. The other two professors folded their arms as the two house leaders slightly flinched.

“I-I- ...No, I shouldn’t attempt to justify myself for this. You’re absolutely right, Professor Byleth,” Edelgard conceded. “Professor Manuela has been especially helpful in regards to anatomical prowess, such as strength training, emergency medical care, and female-oriented battle strategies. For that, I am grateful.”

Manuela chortled as the house leader took a bow. “Oh, Edie, stop! You’re going to make me blush!” she haughtily laughed. Once she came down after her fit of ego-boosting laughter - which, to everyone listening to her, felt as if it were an eternity - she turned over to Claude. “How about you, Claude?” she asked. “Have you anything nice to say about dear old Hanneman here?”

“Yes, I’m quite curious as to what you’ll have to say about my teaching skills,” Hanneman added. “Especially since I tend to catch you sleeping during my lectures. Quite often, I must add."

Metaphorically pinned against the wall, Claude chuckled nervously as he tugged against his collar, looking for anything to say about Hanneman’s capabilities as a professor. After a while, though, he ultimately gave up and sighed in defeat. “I... can’t think of anything,” he dejectedly stated. “I’m sorry, Professor.”

“...Then I implore you to listen to my lectures more often, and save the napping for the late afternoon,” Hanneman replied. The crestologist then looked around. “Perhaps we should get going,” he shared with the group. “It seems as if everyone else has left.”

“Ah, you’re right about that,” Dimitri acknowledged, stunned by the vacant land around them where everyone used to be. “Let’s get a move on then. Garreg Mach is a walk away.” With that, the group of house leaders and professors began to make their way back to the monastery, conversing with one another and trading jokes at Claude’s expense over his horrendous track record of sleeping in lectures.

...

The next time Byleth thought he would be meeting the Death Knight, not once did it occur to him that he would be facing him the same place where he met the house leaders on that fated day. He did, however, expect the arena to be ablaze, which was unfortunately true.

Upon hearing that the Death Knight and the Flame Emperor were spotted in Remire Village, wreaking havoc on the locals, Rhea immediately dispatched the Blue Lions to go deal with the situation. Byleth wasted no expenses, and brought along the students, Cyril, Flayn, Catherine, and Shamir. Jeralt also tagged along, per Rhea’s request. However, they weren’t expecting Tomas to show up and reveal himself to be a figure named Solon.

Chaos was everywhere in Remire Village. As many of the students aimed to rout the enemies, some aimed to aid the local villagers, though it proved to be a difficult task when some were bearing arms in fits of hysteria, swinging them around at anyone or anything that even so much as moved while tears rolled down their face.

In the end though, Remire Village was a total loss; only a small handful of villagers were able to be saved amongst the chaos, and those that did survive lost everything they ever had. Rhea offered to board them at the monastery in exchange for temporary work in order to help them get back on their feet, but many scoffed at the offer, spat at it, and turned heels. “Why should we work for the people who failed us once already?” many of the survivors argued. It was a logic that no one could really argue with.

In an effort to lighten the mood for everyone, Seteth had officially declared that the Great Heron Cup was going to happen. It worked well, as the otherwise dark and dreary nature of everyone was uplifted as they gossiped over the event.

As per tradition, each house was required to have one representative partake in the contest, with the winner getting the privilege of being able to score a dance with a person of their choose on the main floor at the upcoming ball. The Blue Lions had congregated in one of the lecture halls to discuss who to nominate for the contest.

“Do we really have to do this?” Felix asked. “Think about it; Remire Village was just burned to the ground, Tomas betrayed us and now looks like a deformed puppet that was stuck in ice for ages, and we have both the Death Knight and their superior, the Flame Emporer, to deal with. Should we really be occupying ourselves with some dancing contest and a ball?” The black-haired boy scoffed. “It seems a little ridiculous to me.”

“While I do wholly agree with you on everything you just said, it’s mandated that we select someone from our house to be the representative for the dance,” Dimitri stated. “Personally, I’d prefer it to be someone who’s good at taking charge, yet has a sort of air to them, befitting of a proper dancer.”

“In that case, how about Annie acts as our representative?” Mercedes suggested. “She told me she used to take dancing lessons when she was younger, before we met at the academy. And I do know that she’s taken initiative before. Remember when she led us to make the lemon cake for Professor Byleth that one time?”

“That’s true, she was the one that ultimately coordinated us during that time,” Dedue reminisced. “Without her guidance, I doubt any of us would’ve been able to pull off making the cake, even if we had worked as a team.”

“If that’s what everyone agrees upon, then I’m fine with it,” Felix spoke up. “It might actually be nice to see her dance.”

Annette’s face reddened as she listened to Felix’s comment. “F-F-Felix, you villain!” she shouted to mask her flustered nature. “Why are you even agreeing to this?! Just a moment ago, you were saying how the dance and ball were terrible ideas!”

Felix’s expression changed from sincere content to a more mild flustered look. He scratched the side of his chin with a finger as he averted the ginger-haired girl’s gaze. “W-Well, like Mercedes said, you fit a lot of the qualifications for the ideal dancer,” he explained. “Th-Therefore, I strongly believe you should be the one to act as the representative for our house in the White Heron cup.”

“Awh, does baby little Felix have a crush on our darling little Annie?” Sylvain teased, leaning in towards his childhood friend. “I bet you’re just hoping for her to win so she can invite you onto the dance floor during the ball and maybe even share a little-“ Sylvain was cut short by a now enraged Felix’s fist to his gut, causing the redhead to keel over onto the floor and whimper in pain. Both Felix and Annette’s faces were red by the end of it all.

Ingrid cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s do this by majority vote then, just so we can get it over with quickly,” she stated. “Raise your hand if you’re fine with Annette acting as the representative for our house in the White Heron Cup.” Everyone’s hands - save for Sylvain’s, whose hands were wrapped tightly around his gut to cover up the throbbing pain Felix gave him with his punch - shot up. Annette was hesitant to raise her own hand in agreement to everything, but ultimately did so. “Then it’s settled,” the blonde concluded.

“Perfect. Annette, in order to help improve your chances of winning the contest, you and I will be working on your dancing with one-on-one lessons every other day,” Byleth explained. “And, if you feel uncomfortable with the final prize, I can always talk to Lady Rhea on your behalf.”

The ginger-haired girl nodded. “That sounds nice. Thank you Professor,” she thanked him. “I’ll be sure to follow your instructions thoroughly, and win this for us all!”

Byleth gave the girl a smile before clasping his hands together. “In that case, we’re all done here,” he told everyone. “Go take care of your own things. I’ll see you all tomorrow for practicing your fighting skills.” Everyone began to file out, leaving Byleth alone with the redhead noble, who was still sprawled out on the floor. “I’m amazed at how strong Felix’s punch was, if it was able to knock you down like this,” Byleth thought aloud. “Perhaps we should work on training your body against punches.”

“W-Why... didn’t you reprimand him... Professor?” Sylvain asked in between hisses of pain.

“...Because I was planning on doing so in private later,” he explained. He then offered a hand to the noble. “Would you like me to help you up?” he asked. “I don’t believe the floor is quite comfortable.”

Taking him up on the offer, Sylvain extended his own hand out to the older man, who aided him by pulling him up onto his own feet. “Thanks Professor,” Sylvain thanked Byleth.

“There’s no need to thank me,” Byleth told him. “Just go to the infirmary and ask for some ice. Manuela will probably give you a bag of ice to put over the wound to help with inflammation.” Sylvain nodded in agreement, and made his way out the door.

It wasn’t until he was outside the lecture hall did it really process in the redhead’s mind that he had just held hands with Byleth. Looking at the palm of the hand he reached out to the older man, he slowly trudged over to the infirmary to get the ice he desperately needed, all while trying to hide the growing erection in his pants over the thought of Byleth holding his hand.

...

“Ugh, cleaning the stables is such a pain in the ass. Thank the gods we’re done with it, though.”

Sylvain and Ingrid were washing off the grime that built up on their hands from when they were cleaning the stables when Sylvain made that comment. Ingrid rolled her eyes. “It’s something you’ll have to get used to, since Professor Byleth is insistent on having you ride horseback,” she told her friend. “After all, how can you keep your horse in tip-top shape if you can’t do the same for their stable? A working mind needs a working home, after all.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that Mickey has been doing great with his stable,” Sylvain retorted. “It isn’t perfect, but it’s spacious and comfortable for him.”

“...You named your horse Mickey?” Ingrid questioned, eyeing the redhead in confusion. “Like... the same nickname you had for Miklan when we were kids?”

“Okay, to be completely honest with you, that’s not it at all,” Sylvain quickly corrected the blonde. “The fact his name is Mickey is entirely coincidental. I brought Bernadetta to see him shortly after I started using him, since I figured she’d prefer to be around animals instead of people, and she said he kind of had the same fur colors as her pet rat Minnie - don’t ask me why she has a pet rat, I wouldn’t know why either - and she just started calling my horse Mickey. It stuck with the horse, so that’s what I used. You can ask Felix about it, if you want; he laughed in my face about it for a while when he found out.”

Ingrid giggled at Sylvain’s story, though not at his expense. “It does seem like a very Bernie thing for her to own a pet rat,” she said. “Mickey is a pretty good complimentary name for Minnie in my opinion, so now you have a horse to remember your times here by.”

Sylvain shook his head and laughed a little. “Yeah... yeah, I guess that’s true. It’ll be a good little reminder of these times.” Getting up from washing his hands in the water basin, Sylvain patted his hands dry with a nearby rag and stretched his back. “Anyways, I need to get going,” he told Ingrid. “I got some stuff I need to finish. My armor won’t polish itself, after all.”

The blonde girl smiled at the redhead and nodded. “Alright then, take care,” she told him. “If you need me, I’ll be taking care of my pegasus in her stables. Persephone loves it when I pamper her.”

Sylvain made his way out of the stables and back over to the Officers Academy, where he saw Dimitri and Dedue in one of the yards, picking at the weeds. Figuring it’d be more entertaining to spy on them than to approach them, the redhead hid behind one of the pillars in order to eavesdrop on what they were saying.

“By the way Dedue, did you know you can find edible plants among the weeds?”

“Please do not eat the weeds, Your Highness.”

“I’m just saying, Dedue, that you can find edible plants among the weeds. I read in a book that commoners used to eat dandelions as a way to get their nutritional intake during economic depressions. Like so. ...See?”

“...Your Highness, it was only the leaves that were eaten like that. Most people cook the rest of the plant before eating it. And even then, they at least had the decency to wash the leaves before eating them.”

“...Oh.”

It took all of Sylvain’s power to not burst out into laughter over what he had just overheard.

Running off so he could laugh in peace without being hunted down by the prince or his follower, Sylvain found himself planted next to a dog, whose tail was wagging happily at the noble. He pet it a little, and let it sit next to him. “Gods, you’re so stinking cute...” he said to the dog.

“Oh, Sylvain! I didn’t realize you were a dog person!”

Looking up, the redhead saw Annette staring down at him with a grin on her face. “Oh, hey Annette,” he greeted her. “How’s today been treating you?”

“Oh, it’s been lovely!” she chirped. “But I do have one thing bothering me... I think you might be able to help me with it.”

Sylvain cocked his head to the side. “That depends on what it may be,” he told her. “How to charm a guy? I’m your man. How to study? Not so much. So, what will it be?”

The ginger-haired girl slightly fidgeted before asking. “Do you know where Felix is?” she inquired. “I-I... don’t know where I’d be able to find him.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Just go to the training grounds,” he instructed. “He’s probably working on his footwork there. If he isn’t there, he’s probably in his room.”

A light seemed to go off inside of Annette’s head as she facepalmed herself when she realized that those were the places where a studious yet standoffish fighter like Felix would be. “Oh, duh. You’re right. Sorry for wasting your time,” she apologized. “Take care!” Sylvain waved at her as she ran off towards the training grounds.

Once the girl was out of his sight, Sylvain turned his attention back to the dog, who was now napping with its head rested on Sylvain’s leg. He softly smiled as he pet the dog. “Why are dogs just the absolute best...?”

“Ah, Sylvain, a pleasure to see you here. I... see you’re with one of the dogs.”

Looking up, the noble saw Byleth looking down at him, mildly perplexed with what Sylvain was doing. “Oh, hey Professor,” he greeted him. “This dog just came up to me when I sat down, and I love dogs, so I couldn’t resist letting them hang out with me. Besides, chicks love a good pet owner.”

The older man turned his attention over to the dog, and knelt down to observe it closer. “They are pretty adorable,” he commented. “Though I myself prefer the cats that roam here. They’re more independent and calm, making it feel like you have to work for their love and affection.”

“That’s... awfully poetic of you, Professor,” Sylvain responded. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you, considering your mercenary background and everything. I guess I prefer dogs just because of how loyal they can be.”

Byleth looked at the noble, whose cheeks slightly flushed at how close their faces were, and ruffled his hair. “Then perhaps your ideal partner is someone who will remain loyal to you,” he thought aloud. “Who knows? You may have even met them already.” Getting up from crouching down, Byleth dusted himself off. “Anyways, I must get going. Annette and I have to practice for the White Heron Cup if we intend to win. Take care, Sylvain.”

“Y-Yeah. Cya later, Professor,” the redhead bid him farewell. The blue-haired man then turned around and went to look for the ginger-haired girl. Once he was gone, Sylvain felt his face go red as he pondered on the prospect of if the older man’s commentary on him liking cats was an analogy for their relationship with each other so far, and what implications it had for the future if that was the case.

...

The ball was a grandiose event. No one at Garreg Mach could deny such a statement.

Though everyone was under the watchful gaze of Rhea and Seteth, the atmosphere of the ballroom was warm and inviting. People chatted with one another on the sidelines, letting those dancing in the center enjoy themselves. Annette was the one to kick things off as she emerged as the victor of the White Heron Cup, beating out Dorothea and Ignatz by very narrow margins, and chose Felix to be her dancing partner, much to his flustered surprise and the amusement of many of the other Blue Lions students. Many people cheered them on as the two danced in front of everyone, much to both of their embarrassment.

While it was a monastery for the Church of Seiros, and thus, a place of religion and worship, champagne was offered to all of the attendees, alongside other delicacies such as hors d’oeuvres and beautifully decorated crostinis. The various candlelit chandeliers that adorned the walls of the ballroom made the place feel toasty, heightening the warmth of the room.

Everyone was allowed to attend the party, both within and from the villages neighboring Garreg Mach. Formal attire was handed out to those who had none to be loaned for the evening, and all notions of royalty were dropped in favor of truly letting loose for just one magical night. Even the nobility and professors in attendance blended in with the crowd with relative ease.

The dances were the main attraction at the ball, and many chose to participate in the dancing, set to various songs that were performed by hired musicians. However, many others opted to stay on the sidelines and converse with one another over how regal and glamorous the ball truly was.

However, the ball was not something that Byleth truly enjoyed.

While he did go to the center and dance with each of the house leaders - Claude practically dragged him out onto the floor as a joke of sorts, which then led to the other two house leaders latching onto the cerulean-haired man once the Golden Deer leader had his fill of fun with him - all Byleth really did was observe from the sidelines. Usually, he was holding either a half-empty glass of champagne in his hand that the servants in attendance would come by and occasionally refill, or some kind of food to bite on.

Byleth was a mercenary. His oldest and fondest memories are of him and Jeralt together, learning how to do things together, and fighting by each other’s side. The regality of an event such as a ball would indubitably make them uncomfortable. The two were almost exactly alike in terms of opinions; like father like son, as some would say. Nonetheless, Byleth was in attendance out of respect and the slight fear of a scolding by Seteth the next time the two crossed paths should he not have shown up.

After conversing with a few students from the various houses as he slowly but surely found himself becoming more and more tipsy as the night went on, the growing headache that Byleth was developing caused the man to have to step outside, effectively leaving the ball behind. And it didn’t go without notice.

Sylvain was chatting with a bunch of girls who had approached him earlier, exchanging flirtatious comments with one another in order to enjoy the night ahead of them, when he saw the older man exit the ballroom. Curious as to where he was going - and a little worried as he saw him stumble a bit - the redhead excused himself from the group of ladies in order to tail the older man. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to end up with him at the Goddess Tower.

When Byleth caught on to Sylvain following him to the Goddess Tower, he stopped and turned around, giving the noble very little time to properly react. “O-Oh! Professor! H-How nice it is to see you here!” he stammered. Adlibbing additional stuff to say as to throw the older man off his trail, the redhead then threw in “Funny to see that you aren’t in some lover’s tryst right now. I figured someone like you would be having one right now.”

Byleth eyed him suspiciously for a moment, before speaking up. “...Tryst?” he questioned. “What... do you mean by that?”

Sensing the opportunity to divert attention away from him sort of stalking the older man to the tower, Sylvain took the opportunity to answer his question. “Oh, you didn’t know?” he began. “The Goddess Tower is a really popular destination for lovers to meet up at. There’s a rumor that says that if you make a vow here with someone to the goddess herself, they always come true.”

Byleth laughed a little at the rumor. “The notion of such a rumor is quite amusing,” he mused. “It really says a lot about the nature of Garreg Mach.” He then looked around, checking to see if anyone else was here. “Was... anyone here with you?” he asked. “It seems a little odd for someone like you to come here alone, considering how much of a ladies man you can be.”

Sylvain nervously chuckled. “Oh, uh, y-yeah, I was,” he lied. “She ran off before we could make any vows. Probably got cold feet or something.”

“I see... would you like to make a vow with me then?”

Byleth’s question went straight to the noble’s heart as it skipped a beat and his face turned redder than a tomato in an instant. Nervously laughing a bit, Sylvain then questioned “B-But that’s mostly just for lovers. Isn’t the whole ‘vow to the goddess’ thing supposed to be just for lovers?”

The older man simply shrugged. “It won’t do any harm to try,” he suggested. “If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, oh well.” His gaze then turned to the noble, and he gave a small smile. “So, Sylvain,” he started. “What is it that vow for?”

“For you to be mine forever.”

The words came right out the redhead’s mouth before he could realize what it was that he had just said. When it finally did sink in, however, Sylvain wanted nothing to do nothing more than to throw himself off the highest vantage point of Garreg Mach and fall to his death. He started internally freaking out over what he had just said, that he wasn’t paying close attention that what the older man was doing. And before he knew it, they were only inches apart.

“What an odd wish...” Byleth commented. “You vowed for me to be yours forever. But perhaps I can do you one better.” He leaned in, whispered into his ear “I vow... to make you happy”, and then pulled him in for a kiss.

It might’ve been the alcohol from the champagne talking, though Sylvain only had half a glass at the ball before trailing behind Byleth to the Goddess Tower, but the redhead found himself to pleasantly be enjoying the kiss. The mercenary wasn’t extremely rough with it; he was actually quite delicate with the kiss. Butterflies flew around Sylvain’s stomach as he pondered on what he was feeling was akin to that of a schoolgirl’s first crush. But there was no denying anything whatsoever; Sylvain Jose Gautier was making out with another man, and was even enjoying himself as he did so.

When the two pulled apart after what felt like a blissful eternity, Sylvain let out a small whimper of disappointment. The older man’s eyes seemed to crave more of the redhead for himself, but knew that he had enough for that night. “Perhaps we should call it a night,” Byleth told his student. “The ball will be wrapping up soon, and we still have classes tomorrow.” He patted Sylvain on the shoulder, told him “Let’s not speak of this to others until we’re both ready for what’s to come”, and left the noble all by his lonesome at the Goddess Tower to think about what had just transpired between the two.

...

Sylvain could not have made it back to his dorm room any faster than he did.

Sprinting across the halls of Garreg Mach from the Goddess Tower to get to his dorm room, the noble slammed the door shut behind him and threw off every single article of clothing on him before tossing himself onto his bed. His cock was harder than it had ever been before, painfully aching underneath all of the various garments before he had removed them all. Now that it was freed and out in the open air, Sylvain grabbed ahold of it and madly began to pump at it.

With every stroke, he imagined Byleth there with him. He imagined Byleth holding him, kissing him, telling him how great he is. He placed his free left hand where he wanted to feel Byleth’s hand on him, moving it around and sensually feeling his entire body up and down. But unlike before, it wasn’t the Byleth in his dreams that he was thinking of; it was the Byleth that was his professor. He was masturbating to the thought of another guy without a single shred of humiliation.

He craved for the older man. He wanted him all for himself, to let him coddle him and have his way with the noble’s body. The idea of letting Byleth take control of him in bed was erotically appealing, and he let the thought of such a thing occurring flood his mind. He would let him feel his entire body up, peppering it with kisses as he went lower and lower down on the redhead’s body. His hands would slip through the back of Sylvain’s pants, feeling his tender ass, a motion Sylvain himself copied as he groped one of his own asscheeks.

“Haah...! F-Fuck, Profess- Byleth...!”

Sylvain wasn’t sure when he started moaning the older man’s name out loud, but hearing it come out of his own mouth in such a lewd and erotic manner caused him to feel himself getting ready to cum. He continued to furiously masturbate, moaning as if he were a bitch in heat, with sweat coming out of his body. He knew he was close. Then, in the back of his mind, he could hear Byleth’s voice.

“Cum for me, Sylvain.”

“Agh, fuck-! BYLETH-!”

Orgasming to the thought of the older man’s voice in his head, the noble let out one final moan of pleasure as he lifted himself up with his legs and ejaculated all over his chest, with some beads of cum even hitting his face. As he started to come down from his high point, he instinctively lapped up the cum that had landed on his face with his tongue, imagining it to be Byleth’s own load. Feeling the salty liquid in his throat caused him to hum in pleasure, entranced with its flavor, as tiredness began to wash over him.

Not even bothering the clean up the rest of his load off his chest, or to even dress back up, Sylvain fell asleep to the thought of Byleth, muttering how he wanted more in his final moments awake. And while he would deny it to be true, it became an undeniable truth that Sylvain had truly, wholly, absolutely fallen in love with the man he once hated known as Byleth.

...

The midnight air was crisp when Sylvain opened his eyes.

Unlike the last time this occurred, the noble was certain that what he was experiencing was nothing more than a dream. He didn’t recall dressing himself before dozing off after his little rendezvous session, yet here he was, fully dressed in the exact same apparel as he wore in all the dreams beforehand.

Thanks to be aware of the world around him being nothing more than a mere dream, Sylvain was able to predict what was going to occur. He hid by the door, pressing his back against the wall of it, and listened to see if he would hear the noise outside in the hallway that he was familiar with. And sure enough, after only a few moments, he could hear the familiar sound of heels clacking against the cobblestone floor.

“Alright, I have you now, girl Byleth...” he said to himself. “Time to see who you really are.”

Sylvain quickly threw open the door and ran out into the hallway, expecting to see the familiar figure once more. And while he did see her, she was different in a noticeable way. Instead of Byleth’s signature cerulean hair color, she now adorned a minty green color for her hair in its place. The redhead could’ve sworn he also saw the faintest shimmer around it, almost as if the hair itself was glowing. He got distracted by it, enough so to let her continue to walk off instead of confronting her like he had anticipated. But the noble wasn’t about to let her escape that easily.

“H-Hey, wait...!”

Just like in the past two dreams, the female version of Byleth didn’t stop for him when he called out for him, but he didn’t let that deter him. He kept running at her, though it felt as if his running speed was equal to her walking speed, for she was always ahead of the redhead. But he knew of a way to get her attention for sure.

“Byleth!”

Calling out the name to her, the woman stopped dead in her tracks, finally allowing the noble to close in the distance between the two. Just as she was only a few feet away though, he fumbled and tripped over his own feet. But the woman acted quickly, she grabbed him by the face and pulled him in for a brief kiss. The warmth of those velvety lips set Sylvain’s heart aflutter before he was once again jolted awake at her touch.

The sun shone down on him and hit his eyes, causing him to wince a little and shield them from the light to let them readjust to the brightness of the sun’s rays. It was warm outside, if the heat in Sylvain’s otherwise cold dorm room was any indication. He welcomed such warmth in his life whenever he could get it; the margravite of Gautier was at the northernmost point of Faerghus, meaning Sylvain was well accustomed to the frigid weather, and generally disliked it. So such a morning was nice for him.

It wasn’t until long that he felt the smile on his face. He figured that it had been there from the dream sequence with the female Byleth, though it continued onward with the warmth of the sun outside. The noble hummed to himself as he cleaned off the excess cum still on his chest from last night’s masturbation session, and dressed himself in some of his nicer clothes.

Exiting the dorm room and walking down the hallway to take care of the various errands he knew he had to do later, Sylvain continued to smile as he remembered the revelation of the latest dream; that it had always been Byleth that he had been chasing after.

...

Jeralt was dead. He was killed in a surprise assassination by one of the very students who he had rescued just moments prior. No one saw it coming.

It came at the end of a mission. Demonic beasts were discovered to be nearby an old chapel the church owned, so Rhea and Seteth tasked Byleth to find out what was going on. Jeralt and the rest of the Blue Lions students, as well as Cyril and Alois, tagged along to see what’s up. When they arrived, they couldn’t believe what was in front of them.

Corpses of young teenagers wearing the Officers Academy uniform laid about on the field, some with their intestines spewed out as if their organs were turned into a bloody stew for the beasts to feast upon. Those who were still alive were badly injured, as far as the group could tell; screams of bloody murder erupted from all corners of the place. “Crivens, these cries of mercy are painful to my ears!” Alois winced, dropping the joking persona upon seeing the carnage before him. “We need to do something about this! Now!”

Byleth nodded in agreement. “Dad, you’re with me on this,” he instructed Jeralt. “Alois, Dimitri, take everyone else and split them up between yourselves. You guys will need support for each other.”

“Of course, Professor,” Dimitri quickly agreed. “The situation is dire and we need immediate action. Felix, Sylvain, Annette, Dedue, with me! Ingrid, Mercedes, Ashe, Cyril, with Alois!” With that command, the three groups split up and ran off in different directions.

Byleth and Jeralt ran straight into the field, riding Jeralt’s horse for mobility. “This is place is absolute chaos...” Jeralt gasped in disbelief. “And you’re telling me you guys had to fight one of these things when you had to face that red guy’s brother at Conand Tower?”

“Yeah, and even then just one of those guys was difficult for us to handle, even as a group,” Byleth explained. “But there’s no time for idle chatter. Let’s do this, dad!”

Byleth pulled out the Sword of the Creator as Jeralt charged at one of the creatures. Jumping off, Byleth leaped into the air to stab the sword into the beast’s head as Jeralt swerved left at the last moment. The blade pierced through its scales as the beast let out a screech of pain. It thrashed around as the cerulean-haired man held on tight, perching himself atop the beast for a better grip. Eventually, he pulled the sword out, and the beast dripped off the same black ooze that engulfed Miklan back at Conand Tower, only to reveal to the horror of both of the men that the beast was from none other than a student from the Officers Academy.

“What... the hell...?” Jeralt questioned. Hopping off of his horse for a moment, he knelt down beside the fallen girl and placed two of his fingers on her neck for a few moments before pulling away and getting up. “She’s dead...” he murmured. “She’s... actually dead... these beasts, they’re-“

At the moment of his realization, Jeralt hopped back onto his horse and ran off to Alois’ group. Once he got to the group, he cane to a screeching halt right in front of them. “Alois!” he shouted. “The beasts, they’re students! The beasts are students of the Officers Academy!”

“Really?! What on Earth could possibly be at work here?!” Alois asked, baffled at the revelation. “Whoever caused these students harm shall be dealt with posthaste! Come on, students! Jeralt, go share this with Dimitri’s group!”

The knight nodded, and turned the horse around before charging over to the prince to share the news, only to be stopped by another demonic beast. However, it was quickly disposed of by forces behind him, which revealed to be both Byleth and Dimitri. “Captain Jeralt, sir!” Dimitri acknowledged the knight. “Professor Byleth told us the news! We need to save as many students as we can!”

Jeralt glanced over at his son, who in turn gave him a nod of reaffirmation. “Very well then,” he agreed. “Find whoever you can, and get them the hell out of here! Now!”

Byleth quickly returned to his dad’s side as everyone else in Dimitri’s group turned tails and booked it to help anyone they see stranded. The two raced through the field, eventually ending up at the chapel itself. In the distance, one last beastly roar was let out and an accompanying “Oh, gods!” by Alois that swiftly followed. It seemed as if every beast had been slain, and those who were caught up in the middle of the action and were alive when the Blue Lions arrived made it out alive.

Jeralt hopped down from his horse, and Byleth soon followed. He gave a pat on the horse’s thigh, and it trodden off as everyone else closed in on the two. “Well Professor, it seems as if we did what we could,” Dimitri shared. “It was... gruesome, to say the very least. But we did it.”

“I pray to the goddess that a tragedy like this will never befall upon anyone else...” Mercedes sadly breathed, clasping her hands together as if she were praying. “No one deserves a horrible end like that. Not even a villain.”

Jeralt sighed. “Well, it seems as if we’re done here,” he told everyone. “Let’s wrap this up and head back to the monastery as quickly as we can. This is going to be a very lengthy report to share, and I’d like to be able to have it done before tomorrow morning.”

“W-Wait! Please! Help me...!”

A faint voice came from underneath the rubble of the chapel, and Jeralt quickly got down on his knees to help dig through the debris. Byleth quickly joined in on the effort, and eventually uncovered none other than Monica. “Monica...?” Byleth questioned.

The girl’s eyes slowly fluttered open and she let out a cough as she looked at the professor. “Oh... hi, Professor...” she greeted him. “S-Sorry you have to see me like this...”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jeralt told her. “It’s a good thing you spoke up. Otherwise we would’ve left you behind on accident. Do you think you can stand up?”

The knight helped Monica up, and she dusted herself off and coughed one more time. “W-We should probably head back now, huh?” she questioned. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s... worried...”

“You’re right, we should,” Jeralt agreed. “Alois, take everyone with you. I’ll follow suit in a moment. I just need to... catch my breath.” The fellow knight shot Jeralt a cheeky smile and a thumbs up, and motioned for everyone to follow him back to Garreg Mach. Only Byleth opted to stay behind with Jeralt and Monica.

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping me out, mister,” Monica properly thanked the knight. “And on everyone else’s behalf. I really mean it.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it kid,” he told her. “Just run along with everyone else. I’ll catch up in a moment.” Monica giggled, and started making her way off, when she said something that Byleth should’ve acted upon immediately in hindsight.

“Too bad it’ll be a moment too late.”

As Jeralt was taking in some air with his deep breathing, Monica pulled out a dagger from underneath her clothing and stabbed it into the knight’s back. He let out a howl of pain that attracted the attention of those who were getting ready to leave, only to bear witness to the horror that had just unfolded.

“You were getting in the way of my plans, so just die already... you damn dog,” Monica wryly grinned. Pulling out the knife out of the knight’s back, she took one step back as Jeralt stumbled forward, before flopping over on his stomach. And Byleth screamed.

“DAD!”

And then the world froze around him.

It wasn’t the first time Byleth had used the power of time manipulation. He had used it almost every single time since the first major battle he had with Kostas back at Zanado. Sothis had explained to him how to use it, and he followed through on it at crucial times; he reversed time when Annette accidentally fell to her demise at the Red Canyon, when Dedue’s head was cut open by a throwing axe when the group confronted Lonato, when Felix had his spine ripped out from behind him in a surprise ambush at Conand Tower... the list went on and on and on for the man. And he hoped he could save his father from such a demise. So he went back in time to when everyone was just about getting ready to leave.

The scene unfolded exactly just like how it did when Byleth rewound time. “I just wanted to say thank you for helping me out, mister,” Monica properly thanked the knight. “And on everyone else’s behalf. I really mean it.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it kid,” he told her. “Just run along with everyone else. I’ll catch up in a moment.” Monica giggled, and started making her way off. At that moment, Byleth knew he had to act if he wanted to save his father’s life. But when he pulled out the Sword of the Creator, a mage with skin and hair as white as snow appeared right in front of him, blocking him from going after Monica. And, much to his horror, the scene unfolded exactly how it did earlier.

As Jeralt was taking in some air with his deep breathing, Monica pulled out a dagger from underneath her clothing and stabbed it into the knight’s back. He let out a howl of pain that attracted the attention of those who were getting ready to leave, only to bear witness to the horror that had just unfolded.

“You were getting in the way of my plans, so just die already... you damn dog,” Monica wryly grinned. Pulling out the knife out of the knight’s back, she took one step back as Jeralt stumbled forward, before flopping over on his stomach.

Sensing that Byleth was about to activate Sothis’ powers once more, the mage threw the man at a wall, causing him to hit it at a rapid speed. His back slammed against brick and he fell over onto the grass. Sylvain rushed over to check up on him, trying to help the older man back up on his legs. Deeming him to no longer be a threat, the mage then turned to Monica. “Kronya,” he spoke. The voice shocked Monica, and she turned around in surprise.

“Th-Thales? What are you doing here?” she questioned.

“I need you alive for one more thing. That is all,” he said. “You did your part here. Let’s go.”

“Y-Yes sir!”

“NO!”

Despite Byleth’s protests, the mage took Monica with him and magically vanished, as if he had teleported elsewhere. Letting go of Sylvain, Byleth scrambled over to Jeralt, turning him on his back and cradling his head. The knight opened his eyes to see Byleth’s.

“Woah... I didn’t know you could cry...” he joked in a slightly raspy voice. “It seems that my time has come...” The knight took in one last breath to relax his body. “Look for my journal in my quarters,” he instructed the blue-haired man. “You’ll... need that.”

“I-I will,” Byleth promised. “I promise I will! Just, please, Dad-!”

“Byleth.”

“...Yes, Dad?”

“...I love you.”

Letting out one last raspy breath, the light in Jeralt’s eyes vanished, and his body went motionless. Everyone could tell that at that moment, with his head in his own son’s lap, Captain Jeralt Eisner of the Knights of Seiros had died.

And Byleth screamed, as tears poured out of his eyes in a cascade of anguish and sorrow.

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!!!”

...

The memorial ceremony held in Jeralt’s honor the following week was nothing short of a somber, sullen nightmare. Aside from a few muffled cries hidden behind handkerchiefs and the occasional speaker at the podium, it felt dead. The air of the chapel weighed heavily on everyone in attendance. Few had words to say.

“We are all gathered here today to honor, to mourn, and to remember Captain Jeralt Eisner of the Knights of Seiros,” Rhea began. “His life was taken from us last week in an unprecedented assassination attempt by the villain who posed as Monica von Ochs, the student whose life we rescued from the clutches of the Death Knight a few months back. But this is not the time to scorn our enemies. Not yet, at least. This is the time to reminisce in Captain Jeralt’s life. So I’d like to invite anyone who would be interested in sharing a few words about him.”

Stepping down from the podium, Rhea walked over to a bench and sat beside Seteth and Byleth. Edelgard quickly got up from her seat and made her way to the podium. “It hurts me to know that Captain Jeralt is now dead,” she spoke. “He was the pinnacle of everything a knight should’ve been; honorable, chivalrous, considerate... every positive adjective you can think of for a knight can be applied to him. And I am, quite honestly, infuriated at the fact that the person who took his life from us was right under our noses this whole time. They were under my nose. I... cannot forgive myself for this. So Professor Byleth... I’m sorry.”

Leaving the podium behind to go sit beside Hubert, Leonie was the next one to walk up to the podium. “I’d like to share a story about Captain Jeralt with you all,” she started. “Six years ago, Captain Jeralt came to the village I lived in within the Leicester Alliance, and helped deal with some local poachers. While he stayed there, he took me under his wing for that time, training me how to be a mercenary. He gave me a charm before he left, and it’s always been by my side since then.” Pulling the charm out of her pocket, Leonie showcased it to everyone by holding it up high for them to see. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but the wearing on it showed the level of sentimental value it carried. “Now that he’s gone, I swear on my life that I will carry this charm with me to my grave, in his honor,” she continued, stuffing the charm back into her pocket. “He’s the reason why I came here to Garreg Mach and enrolled in the Officers Academy. He’s the reason why I want to become a mercenary. And I’ll never forget that. Ever.”

The next person to go up was Alois. It was obvious that he was holding back a waterfall of tears, based on his posture, facial expression, and loud quivering from within his suit of armor. The knight tried to speak up and begin his eulogy, but ultimately began to cry in its place. He ran out of the chapel with nearly everyone watching him do so. “Poor Alois...” Rhea sighed. “He was extremely close to Jeralt, and so fond of him, too. He’s taking his friend’s death so poorly... and I cannot blame him for doing so.”

Following Alois’ dramatic exit was Flayn. She was never particularly close to Jeralt, so Byleth was perplexed by her going up to share a eulogy for him. He rationalized that she was doing it on behalf of either Seteth or Rhea herself, since neither are technically allowed to do so, as they were the ones conducting the ceremony. But as Flayn was about to speak up, a voice yelled out at the back.

“Traitor!”

Everyone’s attention turned to the voice, who was a male student at the Officers Academy. “You’re a dirty traitor!” he roared. “You were with Monica when you two got rescued, and you had the gall to let her kill Jeralt! I bet you’re also working for those slimy dastards!”

“N-No!” Flayn tried to speak up, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “I would never-!”

“How do we know you aren’t secretly some doppelgänger like Monica was?!” another voice raised up. It was a female student this time. “The report said the shadowy figure called her Kronya, so that Kronya person replaced Monica! And she managed to fool everyone! So how do we know you aren’t fooling us as well?!”

“Alright, that’s enough, you two!” Seteth snapped, standing up. “We are here to honor Captain Jeralt’s legacy! Not to throw slanders around at each other!”

“Oh, yeah, sure, ‘slander’!” A third voice spoke up, toxic sarcasm dripping out from the tone. “Make sure to tell yourself that to comfort yourself when that wench up there stabs you in your back!”

More and more people began to clamor into a violent uproar, and Flayn broke down into tears. Seteth ran up to her in an effort to get her out of the chapel as a way to calm the green-haired girl down. As they made their way out, Seteth and Rhea nodded at each other, understanding what to do. As the two left, Rhea stood up and yelled.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!”

Taking everyone by surprise, the air fell silent as the archbishop quickly regained her composure and cleared her throat. “If this continues, I will have no choice but to have the Knights of Seiros to escort you all off the premises,” she sternly told the crowd. “And if such a thing has to occur during a time like this... I will not be friendly. Do I make myself clear?” The students spoke to each other in hushed whispers before falling quiet once more. “Good. You all made a wise choice,” she continued. “Now, let’s all continue with this event, shall we?”

Byleth, however, had other plans in mind.

Getting up from his spot, he quickly stormed out of the chapel as onlookers watched on. “To lose one’s father is never an easy undertaking,” Ingrid lamented. “Especially if the father was all you ever had. Poor-“

“Hey, wait up Professor!”

Sylvain jumped out of his seat in the pew beside Ingrid and ran off towards the older man, effectively cutting the blonde woman off. As he curved around various corners, he eventually stopped to catch his breath. Fortunately for him, Seteth and Flayn were walking on the opposite side of the hallway. Sylvain could tell that Flayn had been crying a lot, as her face was red and her eyes were puffy. As much as he didn’t want to bother the two - especially after the stunt some of the other students pulled in the chapel against Flayn - the redhead was still concerned about Byleth’s well being. “H-Hey,” he started. “Do um uh... do either of you know where By- I mean, Professor Byleth went? He kind of just... stormed out of the ceremony.”

While still comforting his younger sister in her arms, Seteth explained to the redhead “I believe he may have gone off to his quarters. That’s the most logical place for anyone to go during an event like this... tragedy.” Sylvain nodded at Seteth, gave a small look of sympathy to Flayn that the priest took notice of, and left the two behind in hopes of finding Byleth.

Not too long after his encounter with the two siblings in the hallway, Sylvain was able to find Byleth in his room, much like Seteth had suggested. It wasn’t hard to get in by any means; the door was left wide open, almost as if the older man didn’t care who came up to him at that moment. The implications such a small action denoted made the noble pity the mercenary. But he figured it was better him than anyone else, and knocked on the door to let Byleth know of his arrival.

“H-Hey, Professor, it’s me...” Sylvain greeted the older man in an awkward manner. “You kind of just... took off after Lady Rhea silenced the crowd. I’d ask if you’re okay, but... I know you’re not. I’d have to be the daftest man alive if I were to think that. So... what’s been on your mind? W-Why’d you take off like that?”

Byleth turned his attention over to the noble with a slight look of frustration in his eyes. Just like Seteth had predicted moments before, Sylvain could see that the older man was in a very poor condition. He exhibited the same reddened face and puffy eyes that Flayn had, meaning that he had just recently cried. The mercenary let out a noise that was somewhere between a croak, a growl, and a sigh, before responding. “I just... needed to get out of there,” he explained. “Before I cried in front of others...”

“A-Ah, right...” Sylvain acknowledged. The two stood there in silence, with the air heavy and gloomy around them. Sylvain tried to start up a conversation, just so the tension would dissipate, even if it was just a little. “So...” he began. “I know the greenhouse has some stuff ready to be picked. If you want to come with me, we could go-“

“Sylvain.”

The simple drop of his name caused the redhead to shut up instantaneously. “Stop. Please, just... stop,” the cerulean-haired man said to him. “I appreciate the gesture, but right now, I need to be by myself. I have a lot of my mind... And this stupid journal isn’t helping me with much, either.”

The redhead’s attention turned to the journal sprawled open on the desk Byleth was standing over. The pages seemed to be slightly worn out and discolored, and ink was scribbled all over it. Sylvain could deduce the journal belonged to someone. Most likely Jeralt. So, choosing not to say anything about it, he simply nodded in understanding. “Alright,” he complied. “I’ll leave you alone then. But... know that I’m here for you. Okay?”

When Byleth gave him a small smile, Sylvain shut the door so the older man could have the privacy he wanted, and made his way to his dorm room. When he got there, he sat on the edge of the bed, and thought about the two sentences that he saw in the journal.

“I used to think the world of Lady Rhea. Now I’m terrified of her.”

Sylvain couldn’t begin to properly process all that had happened to the mercenary within the past week. His father had died, the one person who was there for him his entire life, and now he has something to question the nature of the archbishop herself. The noble heaved a heavy sigh. All he could do was pray to the goddess that Byleth would turn out to be okay at the end of these trying times.

...

For the following few weeks, the Blue Lions house had this air of melancholy surrounding them. The students’ attitudes became more closed off and dejected for that entire duration, and everyone knew that the cause of it all was Byleth.

Everyone who saw him that month could tell you he looked horrible; whenever his eyes weren’t red from the constant outpour of tears that he masked, they would be deathly pale with heavy bags underneath them. Every time someone tried to talk to him, he would give a small grunt of annoyance and leave in the opposite direction, as if to tell them “Leave me alone”. At one point, it got so bad that Rhea herself had to take over the class because he was in no condition to teach, but even she wasn’t impervious to the class’ melancholic atmosphere. When he was informed of Rhea taking over his class for that day by Dimitri, all Byleth had to say was “I’d rather have Seteth take over for the day than her”.

Then he got a letter one night from Kronya.

In the letter, nothing was immediately visible to the naked eye, save for the polite “Dear Byleth” at the beginning and the cheeky “Your daddy killer, Kronya” at the end. However, using fire magic, Byleth was able to uncover a secret message in the letter. The message was short, sweet and simple; it read “We are in the Sealed Forest - so come find us if you dare”. And Byleth knew it was a death trap, but in his state of mind, he didn’t care. He wanted revenge.

“I’m going to the Sealed Forest by myself. Do not try to interfere.”

He imparted that message onto Rhea and Seteth before leaving, with the Sword of the Creator in his hand. Knowing that death is spelled out for him should he be the only one to venture out to meet up at the rendezvous point, the two summoned everyone in the Blue Lions house to meet up with them for an emergency meeting. It only took twenty minutes for everyone to get there.

“We need you all to trail the professor as he travels to the Silent Forest,” Rhea instructed the group. “We know not of his intentions there, though we suspect he’s meeting there with someone for a rendezvous of sorts. For his safety, please leave immediately. May the goddess herself protect you all on your journey.”

Everyone complied with Rhea’s instructions, and hurried to prepare for the journey as they began to leave for the Silent Forest. Byleth was nowhere to be seen, which relieved a few of the students; incurring the wrath of the Ashen Demon himself would be equivalent to that of an inescapable death trap in many of their minds.

As the group travelled to the destination, Dimitri caught Sylvain’s attention by nudging at the horse’s front leg. “Yeah? What is it, Dimitri?” he asked.

“I was wondering if I could hop on the back of your horse with you when we get to the forest,” Dimitri inquired. “If we both travel to find him, it’ll be easier for us to come to his aide.”

Sylvain nodded in understanding. “Alright, makes sense. Sure thing,” he agreed. “In fact, hop on up right now. It’ll make it easier for us to stick together if we run into any enemies.” Halting Mickey for a moment, Sylvain helped Dimitri climb aboard before trotting onward. “You good back there?” Sylvain asked.

“It’s admittedly a little weird to be riding a horse when I’m so used to traveling by foot, but I believe I can manage,” Dimitri told him.

Sylvain laughed a little. “Yeah, that’s how it was for me when the professor was teaching me how to properly ride one of these bad boys for the first time. You get used to it after a while.”

When the group finally arrived at the Silent Forest, they were greeted with corpses of deathly pale mages and warriors skewed about the clearing. They were clad in black, with an insignia no one in the group knew. All they had to go off of was a slight reaction of fear from Flayn.

“Welcome to the forest of death, Byleth!”

The voice was distant, yet rang in the ears of the group of students with theatricality and feminine excitement. “This is the place where you shall fall, once and for all!” the voice continued. “But first... try to catch me if you can!”

“Get back here, Kronya!”

Immediately recognizing the voice to be Byleth’s, Dimitri immediately began to give out orders. “Everyone, flank to the left! Take out anyone you may come across! Show no hesitation! Sylvain, follow the noise! We’ve no time to waste!”

“Already on it, Dimitri!” Sylvain affirmed. With a simple kick to the side, Mickey began to race against time with Sylvain and Dimitri on his back toward the sounds of Byleth and Kronya clashing with each other, weaving in and out of the trees as he followed. Sylvain halted the horse right before they got out of the trees and bore witness to Byleth and Kronya dueling off with one another in the center of some abandoned ruins.

“What are we stopping for, Sylvain?” Dimitri questioned, trying to keep his voice hushed as to not draw any attention to the both of them. “The professor’s right there! It’s three against one, Sylvain! We can easily beat her if we work together!”

“Yeah, but not with Tomas behind her.”

Dimitri immediately turned his attention back over to the fight, and his eyes widened. At some point, the figure that had once pretended to be Tomas was behind Kronya. The fighting between her and Byleth temporarily halted. “Solon! Don’t just stand there!” she chastised him. “Help me take out this vermin!”

“...Very well,” he ominously stated. “I shall help you out. Just not in the way that you may have been expecting me to.”

Before Kronya could even question what he had meant, Solon summoned a shadowy claw around his hand and extended it to reach through the girl’s chest, as she lets out a loud gasp of pain which caused the mercenary to take a few steps back in disbelief over what was going on in front of him. “Have no fear, Kronya. Your sacrifice will allow our people to thrive on the remains of the vermin that squirm around on the surface.”

Pulling out a purple thing from within her, Kronya unceremoniously fell over on her back with her eyes widened in fear. She let out a small mewl for help and extended her hand to Byleth before she was consumed by a purple aura. The exterior of the ruins themselves lit up in a wall of violet flames that obscured the vision of Sylvain and Dimitri from seeing inside.

“Dastard!” Dimitri spat. “Should he harm the professor in any way, I shall tear that hideous head off his neck with my own hands!”

“W-Wait, hold on Dimitri!” Sylvain held his friend back. “We don’t know what he’s going to do! This could get ugly fast!”

“Now... is the time to unleash the Forbidden Spell of Zahras upon those who dare to oppose us Agarthans!”

“...Oh gods, that can’t be good...”

Within an instant, the mercenary let out a scream that was quickly silenced, and when the purple flame walls fell, only the impersonator stood within the ruins. Byleth was gone, as was Kronya’s body. Solon cackled with pleasure. “Finally! He is gone!” he cheered. “The fell star has finally been removed! Begone, so the darkness may eat you alive!”

“NO!!!”

...

“You fool! You incompetent, incomprehensible fool! Look at what you’ve done now!”

Byleth opened his eyes and looked around, only to be greeted by the visage of an evidently pissed off Sothis, who was reclining on her stone throne. “What were you thinking, running into such an obvious trap?!” she chastised him. “I get you’re upset at them for killing your father, but to act so brazenly is the most foolish thing one could do in that sort of scenario! You didn’t think of the repercussions of your actions, and now look at where we are! Smack dab in the middle of another dimension, surrounded by nothing but darkness! I hate it here! I hate it so much! And it’s entirely on you for us being trapped here!”

For the first time since he charged in, Byleth had stopped to think about what he’s done. He thought about all those close to him; the friends he’d made at Garreg Mach, the various students at the Officers Academy, the students he taught in the Blue Lions house... and Sylvain. He thought of Sylvain, and how close the two have gotten after the noble had actively antagonized him at the beginning of the school year, and the various times the two have hung out together, and the kiss they shared with one another at the Goddess Tower on the night of the ball... and could feel tears welling up in his eyes. All he could manage to say to the girl on the throne was a heavily guilt-ridden “I know... and I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done.”

Sothis let out a sigh of annoyance and repositioned herself on the throne. “It’ll take a god for us to get out of here...” she mused. “In time, our minds and bodies will cease to be if we don’t manage to escape. Are you ready to face death just yet, Byleth?”

“...No. I’m not.”

“...I thought as much.”

Hopping off of the throne, Sothis began to make her descent down the long flight of stairs that stood between her and the blue-haired man. “In your father’s diary, he said that you were a child who was born without a pulse, and devoid of any sign of emotion,” she began. “No laughter, no crying... nothing. And now, I believe that I am the one to blame for that. Even though I was asleep all along... I have been a part of you since you were brought to this world. I’m unsure of her methods, but Rhea has managed to allow me to exist within you all this time. And it is from within you that I have found my powers once more. The powers of a goddess... the powers of the progenitor god, Sothis. I have watched over Fódlan, I have died... and now, I have returned.”

Sothis stopped midway through her descent and stared at Byleth. “In order for us to escape this dimension, I must use my powers as a goddess,” she explained to the mercenary. “However, I lack a body of my own. So, this becomes a dilemma. Either we stay here together and rot away until we are nothing... or I sacrifice my existence from within your mind, and hand my power over to you as that you may escape yourself. I... I am content with the latter. What say you, Byleth?”

Byleth stared at the small girl, and gave her a smile. “I am fine with it,” he said to her. “Though, I will miss our conversations.” Sothis smiled back, and returned to her descent.

“Then it is decided,” she continued. “Our spirits shall merge and become one, and with my powers, you shall rip a hole through the darkness with the sword in your hand, and return to those who need you to guide them.” She reached the end of the staircase, and looked up at the man. “This is the last conversation we will ever have with each other. I wish you, Byleth Eisner, the inheritor of my powers... the best of luck with what’s to come.”

The throne began to glow a golden yellow color before dissipating into a trail of light that surrounded the two in a circular formation. Sothis began to float in the air as she extended her hand out to Byleth. The two closed in on each other, before Sothis’ form began to fade away. Byleth could feel a wave of power rush over him and stood there in silence as the light faded away, before he surged with his newfound power, and opened his eyes. When he did, his cerulean blue hair turned a minty green color, with an accompanying shade changing his eye color as well. Pulling out the Sword of the Creator, the crest stone from within it began to glow a bright red, and the mercenary raised the sword up in the air.

“I AM BYLETH EISNER, THE ASHEN DEMON! I SHALL SHOW THE WORLD THE PATH TO VICTORY!!!!!”

In one fell motion, Byleth sliced at the darkness with the Sword of the Creator, and light began to shine through the darkness. Byleth had cut a way back home. And he was going to take it.

...

“N-No! There’s no way the professor is dead! I refuse to believe it!”

After Sylvain and Dimitri bore witness to what the imposter had done to Byleth, the two charged at him and quickly struck him down. The rest of the Blue Lions students quickly caught up, slightly worn out after dealing with a number of foes, and surrounded the man. All he did was laugh. “Perhaps he is not dead yet... but he will be soon enough,” he cackled. “Unless the Fell Star consumes the darkness itself, he shall never return to our world!”

Just then, a glow of light emerged from behind everyone. It seemed to be a portal of some sort. And out of the portal came Byleth, with the Sword of Creator in his hand. Everyone’s eyes went wide with shock to see the man step out from what they all presumed to be his demise. “Th-This should be impossible...” Solon stammered. “The only being that can withstand that darkness should be the progenitor god herself!”

“She is within me, Solon,” Byleth stated. “She always has been. And with her power... you will die by my blade.” Without hesitation, the mercenary lunged forward and pierced through Solon’s eye and sliced upwards, cutting his bulbous brain open and killing him instantly. He sheathed the sword, and turned to his students. And with a gentle smile on his face, Byleth said to them all “I’m back”.

The whole Blue Lions house promptly threw themselves at Byleth for a group hug, cheering for his return as a few tears of joy were wept. An outpour of cries were shouted aloud among the group.

“We were so worried for you!”

“Don’t you dare fake your death like that next time!”

“I-I’m so happy you’re safe and sound...!”

After a long time of what was essentially group therapy, the students pulled away from the older man, it was Dimitri who first spoke up. “I’m glad to see you’re safe and sound, Professor,” he said. “How did you manage to escape that... void... thing? And why is it that your hair and eyes are now green, and not the blue that they once were-?”

Dimitri was quickly silenced when the older man fell unconscious and flopped over on the floor.

There was a mild rush of panic over the students before Mercedes bent over to check his pulse. She sighed after a moment, and proclaimed “He’s fine... just probably tired”.

“I can only imagine the mental wear-out he must’ve endured over the past day - no, the past month,” Dedue shared. “We should have someone carry him back to the monastery.”

“Having someone carry him on foot will cause a strenuous back,” Felix pointed out. “Therefore, that leaves only Ingrid and Sylvain as who should bring him back.”

“As much as I’d like to be able to help the professor out in this situation, Persephone isn’t exactly fond of having anyone riding her besides me,” Ingrid explained. The pegasus let out a small huff of acknowledgement.

“Then that settles it. Sylvain, you’ll have to carry Professor Byleth back to Garreg Mach,” Dimitri declared. “Do you think you can handle it?”

Sylvain blushed a little as he nodded along. “Yeah, I can handle this,” he said. “No biggie. Just help me get him up on Mickey’s back.” Dimitri and Dedue carried the onset man’s unconscious body over to Sylvain’s horse, and placed his chin on the noble’s shoulder while wrapping his arms around his waist. And with that, the group was off. It took everything in Sylvain’s will to not freak out with Byleth holding onto him, suppressing both the blush on his face and the growing erection in his pants as the group made their way back to Garreg Mach.

...

When Byleth finally came to be, he found himself not in the infirmary, but in his own room. And with him in the room was none other than Lady Rhea herself, looking out his window. She noticed that he was awake, and turned to him. “Hello dear child,” she greeted him. “How are you feeling right now?”

“...Horrible, if I’m being honest...” Byleth grumbled. The last person he wanted to see at that moment was none other than the only one with him. He tried to position himself upright, but Rhea ushered him to lay back down.

“Your body’s weak from fatigue,” she explained to him. “Stress can cause such a thing to oneself, after all. We’ve administered you some state of the art medication, though we aren’t sure if you’ll feel better sooner or later, considering your... physical alterations.”

It was at that moment that Byleth realized that his appearance had, indeed, changed. And now Rhea bore witness to it. There was no doubt in the mercenary’s mind that she had questions. And sure enough, the question that he had dreaded answering finally came.

“What... caused such a change in your appearance?”

“...I met the goddess.”

What Byleth hated the most about that answer was seeing just how elated the archbishop was upon hearing the news. She had a grin on her face she wasn’t even trying to hide, as if to say she was anticipating such an answer from the very beginning. Almost as if everything thus far had been meticulously crafted by her to play out in the way that it had. The mere thought of it all sent a shiver down the man’s back. “Oh? Did you now?” she questioned. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened?”

“...We exchanged some words when Solon threw us into an alternate dimension, and she gave me her powers to escape. That is all.”

Understanding that Byleth wasn’t exactly interested in answering questions at the moments, Rhea instead opted to lay a warm washcloth on his forehead. “You’ll need this when you fall unconscious again,” she told him. “Your body still needs time to recover, after all.” She pulled up the chair at Byleth’s desk and sat down on it beside his bed. “I have always prayed that the radiant power of Sothis would return to Fódlan one day... and with you, it has. Dear child, you have become part of something grand. Much grander than you can imagine.” She sighed in relief. “I wish... this moment could last. To be close to her once more... that is the one wish I have.” Byleth began to doze off, and Rhea got up from the chair when she noticed his descent into unconsciousness once more. Right before she left the room, Byleth heard her say one more thing to him that caused him to feel as if the devil himself was speaking to him.

“When you wake once more, dear child, we will have a long, long, long discussion about what to do next. We are close... to what we want.”

...

The next time Byleth spoke to Rhea was when she summoned him to her private chambers. To say that he was choleric over the summoning was an understatement. She was the last person that he wanted to talk to. But he couldn’t refuse a request from her, so he begrudgingly complied with her request once he was recovered, and knocked on the door to the chambers before barging it, not giving a damn about formalities. Rhea could tell he was displeased with the summoning when she saw the look of ire on his face.

“Ah, Professor,” Rhea spoke, trying to keep her odd nervousness lidded. “You’ve arrived.”

“Indeed I have,” the mercenary curtly responded. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the archbishop. “I hope you summoning me here was for a good reason.”

Rhea hesitated to spoke, seemingly wishing to say something but holding back on what it was she wanted to say. She turned her head to look at Seteth, who gave her a silent nod of approval. Letting out a small sigh, she finally shared “I feel as though it’s time you learned the truth about who you are... and why you’re here.”

“I understand your frustration with Lady Rhea must be immense right now, and I honestly do not fault you for feeling that way,” Seteth spoke up with a hint of sympathy in his voice before Byleth could interject with some snarky comment. “However, please, I beg of you Byleth... listen to what she has to say.”

Byleth, though still furious with Rhea for her shadiness, eventually sighed and let his arms down from his chest. “Fine,” he agreed with a huff of annoyance. “I’ll listen to what you have to say. It’s not like I can refuse such a request anyway. But what you’re about to tell me better be important information, I swear I will quit right this instant and march out of Garreg Mach.”

“...Thank you,” Rhea meekly thanked the man. “It means... so much to me.” She wiped away the tear that was beginning to form in one of her eyes, and cleared her throat began sharing everything to Byleth.

“So, as you may have figured out, the Progenitor God that I so often speak about is none other than Sothis, the person whose powers you draw upon,” she shared. “She was the mother of an ancient civilization called the Nabateans, who waged with against Those Who Slither in the Dark - the Agarthans - which are the people responsible for killing your father. The reason why I’m sharing all of this is because the Church of Seiros was founded by the last child of Sothis, Saint Seiros. And the identity of Saint Seiros... is me.”

“...If we’re revealing the identities of who the Nabateans are, then I suppose it’s safe to say this to you as well,” Seteth spoke up. “Flayn and I are Nabateans as well. And, well... Flayn is actually my daughter, not my sister. Her mother is... dead. Like the rest of our kind.”

“The Nabateans were slain by the Agarthans in a bloody war that raged on for nearly a century,” Rhea further explained. “And unfortunately, Sothis fell victim to their onslaught as well, while she was resting no less. Her bones were torn out of her body and fashioned into weapons. These weapons are the Heroes’ Relics... including the Sword of the Creator, which was fashioned out of her spine. I established the Church of Seiros to bring her back in some form. I didn’t care if it had to be through another person. I just... wanted to see her again in some way.”

“...So I’m just a vessel for you to use, then?”

Byleth’s question caught the two Nabateans off guard. “You said you wanted to see her again some way,” he repeated. “So you implanted me with the capability to carry Sothis within my spirit, hoping that she’ll activate her powers from within me and become one. Am I right on that?”

“...Yes. You are right on that,” Rhea acknowledged. “But you are not just a vessel, Byleth. You may have the capability to wield her powers... but her powers don’t define who you are, nor have they ever. You are Byleth Eisner, first and foremost. That is an absolute truth that will never go away.”

Silence lingered in the air for a moment before the mint haired man heaved a sigh. “...This is a lot to take in,” he confessed. “It certainly does explain a lot of things though. Even stuff like Seteth’s clinginess towards Flayn.” He turned his attention back over to Rhea. “So. Tell me, what exactly am I supposed to do for you to fulfill your wish?” he asked.

“...There is a place called the Holy Tomb underneath us. It was a sacred place for the Nabateans, and the throne in which Sothis was killed on is there. Garreg Mach was built on top of it to preserve it. Only a handful of people know of its existence,” Rhea continued explaining. “If you sit upon that throne during a ritual, there’s a chance that I’ll be able to talk with her once more... and get the closure that I need.”

“...And if I refuse to cooperate?” Byleth questioned. “From the sound of it, there’s a possibility that my entire identity may be wiped away during the ritual. I can sympathize with you losing your mom, but I refuse to act as your communication with her if it means I’ll lose my life in the process.”

“A-Are you... holding Sothis hostage from Lady Rhea?” Seteth questioned, evidently baffled by the former mercenary’s actions.

“Perhaps in a way, I am,” Byleth proclaimed. “If you want me to cooperate, then prove it.”

The silent hiccups from crying tears coming from Rhea started to be noticed, as she slowly fell on her knees while keeping her head down. She placed the palms of her hands on the floor and turned them so that they were facing each other, and then lowered her head onto the back of her hands. It took a moment for the two men to realize that she was on her knees to beg for Byleth to help her out. “P-Please, Profe- no, Byleth... please help me out with this,” she pleaded. Her voice sounded weak and feeble, like she could crack at any given time. “Please... help me with my selfish request to talk to my mother one last time. Please... I beg of you.”

“...Fine. I’ll help you out.”

Rhea lifted her head to look up at Byleth, and the former mercenary could see the red in her eyes and the streaks of tears on her face. “I’m having the Blue Lions come along though,” he demanded. “Should something go awry during the ritual, they’ll likely be needed. And I don’t exactly trust going down there with you two as my only company. I’m also going to explain everything to them, save for the parts about you being Nabateans and Rhea being Saint Seiros. They owe an explanation for what exactly will be happening. Is that clear to you both.”

Rhea sniffled as she got up from the floor. “Y-Yes... that’s fine,” she agreed to his terms without any hesitation. “I’m so happy... M-Mother...” Upon uttering the word, the archbishop turned away to cry some more silent tears. Seteth pulled her in for a hug and began to stroke her hair with his hand.

“Take as much time as you need to prepare everything for the ritual,” Seteth explained to the mint haired man while attempting to comfort Rhea at the same time. “And... thank you for hearing Lady Rhea out. We both appreciate it.”

Byleth said nothing as he headed for the exit. All he could think about everything that he learned about with Rhea’s explanations. The Agarthans, the Nabateans, the Church of Seiros, the Heroes’ Relics, Sothis... he finally understood everything. And if was to be honest with himself, the information was so overwhelming that he could feel a headache beginning to emerge from the sheet quantity of information alone. He headed straight to the infirmary to get his hands on some pills from Manuela to cure his eventual headache.

...

“...And that’s the gist of everything that Lady Rhea told me. Are there any questions?”

It didn’t take long for the entirety of the Blue Lions house to congregate with each other when Byleth had messengers go around to have them meet with him in the classroom. The meeting happened only two hours after his own meeting with Rhea and Seteth, and the scowl of annoyance on his face then was still visible when he shared the tale with everyone. Most of the members of the house had a look of unease throughout the whole meeting, save for Felix, whose look of unease turned into a confident grin midway through the meeting, and Dimitri, who seemed to be lost in thought.

The first one to speak up out of the group of students was Ashe. “I... never imagined that all of this would be real...” he quietly commented. “Sothis, Saint Seiros, the Agarthans, the Nabateans... everything, really. It just feels so... surreal. As if it were all part of a fairy tale.”

“And the Heroes’ Relics being made out of the Progenitor God’s bones...” Annette quivered at the thought of it. “Had I known that they had such a story to them, I would’ve locked my family’s up ages ago.”

“It is a bit much to process, I won’t deny that,” Felix commented. “But look on the bright side; now we have a name to a group of faces. Enemy faces. They’ll likely come looking for you, Professor, but at least now we’re on a more even playing field.”

“I hope we can get the ritual done before they come back for Professor Byleth,” Mercedes chimed in. “Our minds will be less occupied, and we’ll be more focused on bringing peace back.”

“We’ll do our best to keep both you and the archbishop safe while we’re down at the Holy Tomb, Professor,” Ingrid assured. “Please count on us to protect you during the ritual.”

Dimitri was muttering something to himself under his breath, which Dedue happened to noticed. “Your Highness? If everything alright?” he asked. It seemed to snap the prince out of his mind and back to reality.

“Huh? O-Oh, yes, I’m fine,” he responded. “I’ve just been... thinking about something. It’s nothing to worry about though. L-Let’s do our best to protect both the professor and Lady Rhea while we’re down at the Holy Tomb. Such an event is a once in a lifetime ordeal, after all.” Everyone nodded in unison.

“Alright then. I suppose this as a good a time as any to adjourn this meeting,” Byleth declared, clasping his hands together. “Prepare for the event. We’ll be cancelling class all of next week for said preparations. Get stronger, rest up, and we’ll congregate once more with Lady Rhea when the time comes.” Everyone in the class - save for Sylvain - left the room to go about with the rest of the day. When the door closed, the mint haired man let out a sigh of exhaustion.

“Hey, uh, Professor?” Sylvain asked. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem rather... tense.”

The former mercenary chuckled a little in response to the redhead’s question. “You got me,” he admitted. “I am rather tense at the moment. This whole thing is for Rhea. I just happen to be caught in the crosswinds of it all. And, should anything go wrong...”

“N-No! Don’t think like that!”

Sylvain was quick to shout that out in a panic, which surprised the older man. When he realized what he has just done, the noble blushed a little and cleared his throat. “W-What I mean is... we’re going to be there for you, Professor,” he continued, desperately trying to cover up his outburst from moments before. “You can rely on us to make sure you stay safe. I promise.”

A small smile crept up on Byleth’s lips before he made his way over to the noble and ruffled his red hair with one of his hands. “Well then... I suppose that’s going to make you my knight in shining armor, huh?” he jokingly questioned. “Then I look forward to your protection.”

Trying to play off the ruffling, Sylvain knocked the older man’s hand away while laughing a little. “Alright, alright, sure,” he agreed. “I have to get going now. I still have to meet with the librarian to find a certain book for Mercie. She asked me to fetch it for her, and I can’t say no to a pretty girl’s request.” He made his way over to the door and opened it before pausing and turning his head back around. “Oh, and Professor?”

“Yes Sylvain?” Byleth questioned. “What is it?”

“...I’m digging the new look. It suits you.”

For a moment, in the corner of his eye, Sylvain could swear that there was a blush on the older man’s face when he made that comment. And as he closed the door, all he could think about was that blush on the older man’s face. It made him happy.

...

The two weeks went by rather quickly for everyone. Even Byleth, who was dreading to descend into the Holy Tomb with Rhea, felt as though time felt faster than before. The students of the Blue Lions house all trained hard for the sake of protecting their beloved professor, and Rhea had Seteth fill in her place as the administrator of Garreg Mach for the day, to which he obliged. The two did their best to keep things under wraps, passing Rhea’s absence off as being a terrible cold which she must nurse. And when the day came for the ritual to happen, the ten people met at the designated spot.

Rhea closed the door behind her, and turned to the group with a gentle smile on her face. “I see you’re all here,” she acknowledged. “Good. Then let’s get to the Holy Tomb.” She made her way through the group of students over to one of the slabs on the wall and rested her hand against it. As she did so, she muttered something under her breath, and the wall began to glow a luminous green not too different from Rhea’s own hair color. When she pulled back, the wall began to separate, causing slight tremors in the earth beneath their feet, before revealing a stone staircase that descended to an unknown place.

“I-Incredible...!” Ashe gasped in awe. “I can’t believe that just happened!”

“A defense mechanism that only Lady Rhea can activate, huh?” Dimitri pondered aloud. “Fascinating.”

Rhea grinned. “I’m glad to see that you enjoyed seeing that,” she commented. “Now, follow me. Professor, I wish for you to stay right behind me. Everyone, please do your best to protect us. This ritual... is very important to me.”

Following the archbishop’s orders, Byleth tagged alongside Rhea, walking beside her, as the students kept their distance behind the two green haired people. They conversed among themselves about what it is they’re about to witness, with gave Rhea and Byleth an opportunity to talk with one another.

“Professor, I just wished to thank you once more for agreeing to do this,” Rhea thanked the man once more in a hushed voice so that the students wouldn’t hear her. “It means a lot to me. It really does.”

“I’m just doing this so you don’t keep pestering me or find something to use against me in the future,” Byleth retorted. “Once this is over with and you get what you want... I refuse to aid you in matters like this ever again.”

“...Of course. I understand that clearly,” she acknowledged. “I’ll leave everything like this behind us, and we can go back to just having a working relationship with one another. Nothing more. I promise.”

“Good.”

Byleth’s curt response left the two quiet, and the chatting amongst the students died down. Annette was the first one to speak up. “U-Um... I don’t know if anyone heard this or if it’s just a figment of my imagination, but... did anyone else hear footsteps earlier?”

The students whispered among yourself, but it was Rhea who answered for her. “Dear child, I believe that might just be your imagination,” she dismissed. “Fear causes just to see and hear things that may not actually be there, and I cannot fault you for being a little afraid right now.”

Annette gulped. “...Y-Yeah, that’s probably it...” she quivered. “I’ve never been a big fan of dark places... and this tunnel is rather dark.”

“...If you’d like, I could hold your hand so you don’t have to be afraid,” Felix offered. “A-And so that you don’t accidentally trip over your own two feet.” There was a silence between the two, before Annette silently slipped her hand around Felix’s, if the ruffling of fabric and a small squeak of shock from the male was any indication to go by. Eventually, they reached the bottom of the staircase. The Holy Tomb was up ahead.

“All that’s left to walk through is this tunnel,” Rhea explained. “Let’s get going. The ritual must happen.” There was an evident increase in her pace which everyone else kept up with, and the closer to the Holy Tomb they got, the more wide the grin on Rhea’s face became. And in just a few moments, they had arrived. “Everyone...” Rhea welcomed them. “This is the Holy Tomb.”

Everyone took a moment to take in the sheer size of the room. It was massive, despite being underground, and everything was a faded jade green color. Caskets scattered the flooring, and in the center of the wall to the back was a massive stone chair that Byleth recognized right away; it was the same chair in which Sothis sat upon in his mind. “Incredible...” Dimitri remarked. “Who would’ve thought that such a vast place like this would’ve been hiding underground all this time?”

The group continued to move over to the chair, and Rhea continued to speak. “This is where the goddess was slain, and her children put to rest,” she explained. “All of these caskets contain some of the earliest crests that you and your peers possess. In a way, these are your ancestors.”

“I feel like Hanneman and Linhardt would have a field day down here,” Sylvain joked. “Hanneman especially.”

“That’s true, he would certainly enjoy being down here,” Rhea commented. “But at the same time, if he wished to investigate these crests, that would mean he’d have to desecrate the tombs of the fallen children... and I cannot allow that to happen whatsoever. Hence why he doesn’t know of this place.” The group stopped right in front of the chair, and Rhea turned to Byleth. “Now then Professor. If you may,” she addressed, gesturing to the chair. With a mild grumble of annoyance, the mint haired man climbed atop the chair and sat upon it. “This will only take a moment. Just sit... and focus. If you feel anything, please, let me know.”

Byleth rolled his eyes and closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax. He focused on trying to feel anything from Sothis - even if it was something small - but he felt nothing. “There’s... nothing,” he described, opening his eyes as he spoke. “I don’t feel anything different.”

“...I see...” Rhea mumbled. Her entire demeanor shifted to one of sadness. “Why... Why didn’t it work...?” she pondered aloud. “It was supposed to be but a single step away. Is it missing something...? But what could possibly be missing?”

As Rhea continued to think, Byleth could faintly hear something distinctly familiar coming from elsewhere; the drawing of a bowstring. Ashe was the only archer in the group, yet his bow wasn’t drawn out; he was holding it in his hand, but that was it.

And that’s when he realized it. They had been followed.

Annette wasn’t mistaken when she heard footsteps earlier. Someone - or perhaps even a group of people - was trailing behind them, close enough for her to hear. And there were logically only two people who would be targeted by an assassin trying to remain hidden. And considering the circumstances they were in at the moment, he knew exactly who it was that the archer was aiming for.

“Rhea! Watch out!”

Leaping out from the chair, Byleth lunged at Rhea and wrapped his arms around him to push him to the ground, and like he had anticipated, an arrow that was aimed for her struck him in the arm instead, to which he yelled out in pain from. It snapped in half and dug its point deeper into his arm as he tumbled across the floor with the archbishop still wrapped in his arms. When he finally came to a halt, the both of them pushed themselves off of the floor and quickly mended to the newly sustained wound that Byleth had received.

“W-We’re being attacked!” Dimitri exclaimed. He quickly turned around and pointed his spear at the tunnel, as it was the only way for anyone to enter or exit the Holy Tomb. “Come out and show yourself, you dastard!”

“Awh, it seems as though the cat’s been let out of the bag. And here I was, hoping for a silent kill. Ah well... this will likely prove to be more fun.”

From the shadows of the tunnel stepped out a man who only Rhea and Mercedes seemed to recognize. “If any of you move, your lives will be forfeit and I’ll strike you down myself so you die a slow and painful death,” the man snickered devilishly. “Thank you ever so much for guiding us down here, by the way. Without you guys, we wouldn’t have been able to find this place. Now... the Imperial Army will take possession of everything in the Holy Tomb. Including the crests hidden in these caskets.”

“M-Metodey...!” Mercedes cried out. “What are you doing here?!”

“Ah, Mercedes. A pleasure to see you again,” Metodey greeted her. “I’m just here to do what I’m told to do by the Flame Emperor. Your brother, the Death Knight, send his regards.”

“W-What...?” Mercedes gasped. “Emile is... the Death Knight...?”

Stepping in to make sure Metodey wouldn’t try to hurt Mercedes with his words any further, Dimitri spoke up. “If your orders come from the Flame Emperor, then that would mean he’s part of the Imperial Army as well. Am I right on that?” he questioned. The grin on the commander’s face said it all. “Then I doubt he’s far from here as well.”

“Indeed. I have been leading this group to the Holy Tomb, following you guys from a distance to ensure you wouldn’t have seen us.”

From the shadows of the tunnel stepped out the Flame Emperor, as well as a few dozen foot soldiers. “...I never thought you’d have the gall to show yourself,” Dimitri uttered, venom dripping out of every word he spoke. “Tell me, Flame Emperor. What is it that you are after?”

“Is it not obvious?” the Flame Emperor questioned in response. “The Holy Tomb is said to contain immense power, enough to rule all of Fódlan with. And I wish to wield that power for the sake of my cause.”

Dimitri scoffed. “Just like how what happened in Duscur was for the sake of your cause, huh?”

“I had nothing to do with Duscur, Dimitri,” the Flame Emperor retorted. “Though trying to reason with you is like trying to reason with a brick wall.” The Flame Emperor then turned around to face the sea of soldiers. “Gather all of the crests in the caskets! Kill for them if you must! They are a poison masquerading as medicine that I will not tolerate any longer!”

“You insolent wench! You will suffer for the sin of trampling this holy place!” Rhea roared. She then turned her head to look at Byleth. “Professor! Protect the crests and eradicate these vile vermin who dare to dishonor the Progenitor God!”

Byleth nodded in response and pulled out his sword. “You guys helped orchestrate the death of my father,” he snarled. “And for that, you will pay with your lives.”

“...You are the one person who I did not wish to make an enemy of, Professor,” the Flame Emperor admitted. “I would have done anything to have you by my side as an ally.”

“Then you should’ve thought things out more carefully.”

Quickly turning to Rhea, he told her “You and I are going to fight on the offense to wipe out as many of their troops as we can. Follow me.” He began to make a dash to the right, and shouted out “Dimitri! Mercedes! Get your groups from Zanado and protect the site! Ingrid, Sylvain! Head left and fight the troops heading towards the others!”

Acting on the orders, Dimitri and Mercedes got into position with their allies from when they fought at the Red Canyon, and the other two began to run over to the left. Neither of them had their mounts with them, so they had to fight on foot. “I hope your footwork is solid,” Sylvain told Ingrid. “I’ve been practicing mine.”

“Good. Then we should have no trouble fighting without Mickey or Persephone,” Ingrid replied. “Now, let’s teach these guys a lesson!” She charged in with a yell, and Sylvain followed suit.

Despite there being three paths for which the enemy forces could run to the site from, the sides seemed to be the most prominent options, most likely due to the Flame Emperor standing in front of the central path. Fortunately for the two pairs who rushed in from both sides, the forces seemed more interested in dealing with the six guarding the crests, though the occasional handful of soldiers attacked the two pairs. But the six in the center were busy, trying their best to keep the enemies away from the caskets and each other alive.

“Annie, please aid Felix!”

“Dedue! Look out!”

“Your Highness, behind you!”

“Mercie, Ashe is bleeding out!”

“Stay back! I can take these chumps!”

“I’ve got your back, Felix!”

The handful of enemy soldiers who did manage to sneak by the group and steal a crest or two from the caskets were swiftly taken down by Ingrid and Sylvain, who rushed towards the exit to prevent anyone from entering or exiting. And throughout the whole ordeal, the Flame Emperor just stood there.

“...This battle makes me grow rather weary, I must say,” the Flame Emperor confessed to no one in particular. “The carnage is... unsightly. I’d prefer to spill as little blood as possible.”

“Awh, but where’s the fun in that, Flame Emperor?” Metodey chided. “Isn’t it just fun to see someone crumble before you, seeing their life drain from their eyes?”

“...Perhaps for you it is,” the Flame Emperor responded. “But the deaths here are the result of a force retaliating against a compromise that could not be handled in a diplomatic manner, for those who ally with the Church of Seiros are too blinded by their own ego to see the truth; that they support a society built upon the oppression of those beneath them.”

Metodey rolled his eyes and brandished his sword. “Well, whatever. You can have fun brooding over your philosophical debate on death. Meanwhile, I... will go enjoy myself.” He ran off to face Byleth and Rhea, and a giddy grin spread across his face when he confronted the two. “Well well well, look who we have here!” he cheered.

“Step aside, Metodey,” Rhea commanded. “If you fail to do so, I will strike you down with the strength of the goddess, and have your will atone for the sins that you have committed for all of eternity in the afterlife.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” Metodey retorted. “After all, spilling your blood... will be the greatest victory of all!” He leapt into the air, and as he did so, Rhea unleashed a powerful elemental bomb of sorts that blew apart his chest, and its innards splashed everywhere with blood spraying about as his body landed with a hard thud against the floor.

“...Taking another person’s life is a very grave sin,” Rhea lamented silently. “But the goddess will understand if the event is done in her name.” She turned to Byleth, her face half covered in Metodey’s face, and gave him a stern look. “Professor, I shall leave the Flame Emperor up to you,” she told him. “May the goddess be with you.”

Byleth nodded in understanding and ran up to the Flame Emperor and drew his sword. “Flame Emperor!” he shouted. “Just what is your cause, even?! Why does it need to spill so much blood?!”

“...I would have told you all if I could have,” the Flame Emperor told the man. “But no one would have listened to me, even if I had tried. I would’ve been branded as a heretic and tossed aside, thus crumbling all that I have worked hard to achieve ever since that fateful day. This is the only way to get what I want, and if I must stain my hands red to achieve that... then I shall do so without hesitation.” An axe was pulled out of seemingly nowhere, and pointed at the former mercenary. “I suggest you stand down,” the Flame Emperor suggested. “Though I wish you were my ally, I know that you make for a foe too difficult to overcome for many. And for the sake of my cause, if I have to strike you down here and now, then I will do so.”

“...Let’s just get on with the fight already.”

Byleth lunged at the Flame Emperor, only to be hit back by the massive shield in front. Agitated, he then attempted to run around and leap from behind, knowing that the attack would be blocked with the shield as well, so he took advantage of that momentum to launch himself into the air. Unwinding the strings connecting the backbone together to wield it as a whip, the professor wrapped the Flame Emperor with it. Recoiling it so he could throw himself at the Flame Emperor, Byleth let out a roar as he threw a punch at the mask blocking the Flame Emperor’s face, knocking it right off the helmet it was on and flying it over to Dimitri’s feet. The Flame Emperor’s head shook, and then looked out to the sea of students, many of whom gasped at the reveal of the Flame Emperor’s identity.

“...E...Edelgard...?”

Behind the Flame Emperor’s helmet was none other than Edelgard herself. “...I suppose the truth is out there now, huh?” she conceded. “I, Empress Edelgard von Hresvelg of the Adrestian Empire, aim to take down the Church of Seiros.”

“W-Wait, did she just say ‘empress’?” Ingrid questioned. “Does that mean-?”

Ingrid’s voice was cut off by the smashing of the mask Edelgard wore as the Flame Emperor under the heel of the prince, before he let out into a manic laughter.

The look on Dimitri’s face was ghastly, all color on it being faded out to give him a pallid look that resembled what a child would see in a nightmare. The students that surrounded him took a step back upon realizing just how dangerous he really was, with looks of fear etched onto every single one of their faces. Even Rhea was taken aback by how deranged he looked. “He’s... snapped...” Felix muttered under his breath. “The wild boar has finally snapped once more...”

Dimitri’s expression quickly shifted over to a serious look as he held his spear with both of his hands and began marching forward. Without saying another word on the matter, he threw his spear at Edelgard, with the tip of it barely missing the helmet and cracking the ground in which it landed on. Then, he bared his fist and prepared to throw a bunch at Edelgard, seemingly ready to smash her to death with his own hands.

“Hubert! Beside me!” Edelgard called out. Hubert quickly teleported beside the new empress, before getting out of the Holy Tomb in an instant. Dimitri barely missed out on the hit, and hollered out in agony and frustration over it. All anyone could do at that moment was watch the prince of Faerghus scream his lungs out.

...

“...So we’re really at war now, huh?”

Just a few days after the events that took place in the Holy Tomb, Edelgard was officially proclaimed to be the new empress of the Adrestian Empire, and with her coronation came her declaration of war against the Church of Seiros and its allies, which included the Kingdom of Faerghus. Unease spread across all of Garreg Mach, with many people fleeing the monastery out of fear. The members of the Blue Lions house, save for Dimitri, had congregated to talk about everything that was going on.

“Honestly, it’s so hard to imagine that Edelgard would declare war like this,” Sylvain commented. “I mean, I always knew she was a rather gutsy person and a capable leader, but that doesn’t mean that she’d be capable of declaring a war of this size.”

“Moreover, this means that the other Black Eagles are likely to be allying with Edelgard, since they reside in the Adrestian Empire,” Dedue pointed out. “This means that we may end up having to fight our old classmates and friends. Or worse... kill them.”

“I don’t want to see any of our friends get hurt, even if we are on opposite sides now,” Mercedes lamented. “I just wish we could settle this in a more diplomatic manner.”

“Didn’t you hear what Edelgard said back at the Holy Tomb? She said that she would’ve tried that if she could, but all that would result in it would be her losing everything she worked hard to get,” Felix responded with an underlying tone of frustration in it. “But at least we now know that boar’s true colors; that of a bloodthirsty maniac.” Ingrid looked as though she wanted to say something in response to Felix, but opted to say nothing instead.

“...I think I need some fresh air,” Annette muttered just loud enough for the others to hear. “This is just... so much to handle.”

“Then why don’t we end the discussion here?” Mercedes suggested. “We could all probably use the time to recuperate.” Everyone nodded in agreement and began to walk off. Dedue split off from the group, to which on Sylvain noticed, so he went to go find him and talk about everything.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asked, making sure he had caught up to the giant before saying anything. “I know you and Dimitri are rather close, so I’m guessing you’re not exactly taking this all that well.”

Dedue seemed hesitant to respond at first, but then ultimately obliged to give an answer. “I... suppose that’s true, yes,” he responded. “His Highness is important to me, and to see him like this deeply troubles me. All I can hope for is to provide him safety in the coming conflict by being the shield that he needs.”

“H-Hey, you’re making it sound like you’re planning on dying,” Sylvain nervously commented. “You’re a good guy, Dedue, so try not to think about that sort of stuff.”

Dedue folded his arms and let out a small huff. “I shall keep that in mind, Sylvain,” he acknowledged, though evidently not taking his advice all too seriously. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go look for His Highness and console with him for a bit before resting for the night.” With that, Dedue wax off to find Dimitri and talk with him.

...

“Unforgivable! Absolutely unforgivable! I cannot begin to fathom that the Adrestian Empire would do something like this!”

“Forgive me, Seiros. The fault lays on me. I failed to see the truth behind Edelgard’s intentions when she enrolled here.”

Rhea, Seteth, and Byleth were all gathered together in Rhea’s private quarters, away from any possible prying eyes. All notions of formality had been dropped by the three of them, agreeing that it would only be a bother for Byleth down the line.

“No, Cichol, you did your best,” Rhea affirmed him, putting her hand on his shoulder in sympathy. “I cannot fault you for someone else’s schemes. So please, don’t fault yourself as well.”

Seteth let his shoulders drop as he let out a sigh of defeat. “Very well...” he complied. “I’ll... try not to do so.” Just then, a knock was heard on the door. It creaked open quickly, only to be closed just as fast. Flayn had managed to slip in. “Ah, Cethleann, come in,” Seteth greeted her.

Flayn’s eyes widened when she realized that Seteth had called her by her real name in front of Byleth. “Oh, Brother! How funny that you call me by my favorite saint’s name!” Flayn laughed as she skipped over to the group, trying to pass off Seteth’s name for her as a joke between the two. “But perhaps we shouldn’t-“

“It’s okay. He knows.”

Byleth silently nodded when Rhea spoke up. “He knows about everything Cethleann ,” she explained. “Who we are, the Agarthans, the Nabateans... all of it.”

“And I’ve vowed to keep your identities a secret,” the professor clarified to the girl in an effort to ease her worries. “Though I did share everything else with the Blue Lions students before we went to the Holy Tomb last month, with Seiros’ permission. There’s no need to worry.”

Flayn eased up with the clarification was made, though she still had a small look of worry on her face. “I... I understand,” she responded. “Th-Thank you for keeping our identities a secret from the others. It means a lot to me.”

Byleth offered the girl a gentle smile and ruffled her hair a little, earning a giggle out of her. “Of course,” he smiled. “I understand the gravity of the topic, and I have no ill intentions with the information.”

Just then, there was another knock on the door. Rhea called out to approve the entering, and Shamir walked in, hustling over to the four. “Lady Rhea, I have urgent news for you,” she shared, bowing to her out of respect. “Empress Edelgard’s troops are advancing toward Garreg Mach at a rapid pace. Our intel suggests they will arrive within the next two weeks.”

“T-Two weeks?!” Seteth proclaimed out of shock. “That won’t be enough time for us to prepare! All we can do is set up our defenses and evacuate the citizens within that timeframe, and we have to act fast!” He turned to Shamir with a grim look on his face. “We need to act now. Take me with you to the barracks! Our defenses must be set up this instant!”

“W-Wait! Let me come with you!” Flayn exclaimed. “I can’t afford to stand here idly and twiddle my thumbs until they arrive! I need to do something to help us all out!” Seteth, not having the will nor the time to say no to Flayn, let her join him and Shamir to the barracks. The three exited Rhea’s quarters in a hurry, though Flayn did close the door when she left last.

When it was just Rhea and Byleth left, Rhea turned her attention over to the professor. “Byleth, I know that I said that I would never ask you to aid me in any of my matters anymore... but I beg of you to grant me one more selfish request,” she told him. “I will have to fight in this upcoming war. It is an inevitability that I have to face. And should something happen to me during the war... please, take over my sacred duties and become the archbishop for the Church of Seiros.”

“...Me? Why?” he questioned, baffled by her request. “I know nothing about your religion to begin with. Wouldn’t Cichol be a better fit?”

“Cichol... has never been the best when it comes to being in a major position of power,” Rhea confessed. “And I want you to be the new archbishop because I have faith in your capabilities to lead the rest of Fódlan to safety. You can change the church however you please during your reign. I will not attempt to stop you from doing so. I just... I just want my fallen mother, brothers, and sisters to remembered in some form.”

Byleth ran his hand through his hair and let out a small grunt of annoyance. “...Fine. I’ll do it,” he agreed. “But if you survive this war, our agreement will be nullified. Is that clear?”

Rhea nodded. “Yes,” she complied. “Thank you, Byleth... for everything.” With that being said and done, the former mercenary left the archbishop’s quarters to go take care of other businesses he had to attend to.

...

Everyone was busy working hard to prepare for Edelgard’s advancing troops. The Knights of Seiros spent much of their time working to set up the barracks around Garreg Mach, organizing escape routes and going over them with the citizens, and vigorously training to protect the monastery from the impending threat with their very lives. And before everyone knew it, there was only one day left before the imperial army would arrive.

Byleth has gathered all of the official and unofficial members of the Blue Lions together for a quick meeting with Alois, Hanneman, and Manuela to discuss about their strategy for the upcoming battle. They were all gathered around a large map of the residential area of Garreg Mach, where they predicted Edelgard’s troops will come from. As they were all discussing amongst themselves on what it is that they should do, Catherine came up to the group. “Pardon for the intrusion, but I was wondering if you and your students are ready for the upcoming battle, Professor Byleth,” she inquired.

Byleth nodded. “Indeed. We’re ready to lay our lives on the line for the sake of protecting Lady Rhea and the monastery,” he told her. “There’s no need to worry.”

“You say that, but we’ll be outnumbered by Edelgard’s troops, no matter how you look at it,” Catherine interjected. “We may have the support of some nobles from Faerghus, but the situation is dire, no matter how you spin it.”

“To make matters worse, the Black Eagles students all aligned with Edelgard when she made her declaration of war, and the Golden Deer students all returned to the Leicester Alliance, so we can’t count on any of them to help us out in this battle,” Hanneman lamented. “If every single one of us works together, we’ll each need to take out about a dozen or so foot soldiers. And that won’t be an easy task whatsoever.”

Manuela heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head. “I’m just worried about the other Black Eagle students,” she shared. “Dorothea and I have been so close for so long so being on opposite sides in this war isn’t going to be fun for either of us, Ferdinand’s family just lost all of its power to Edelgard’s regime, and Bernadetta gets so spooked by her own shadow that I fear this war will take a toll on her mental health sooner or later.”

“Then let them suffer. They chose to betray us all. Their deaths shall be on Edelgard’s hands... not our own.”

Everyone spun around with shock to see that the remark had come from Dimitri, who was looking down with his arms folded across his chest. Though no one could see it, everyone could tell that his face was contorted into a devilish grin. “The voices... they tell me to rip her head off with my hands and hang it atop the gates of Enbarr,” he shared, hysteria seeping out of his voice. “Mother... Father... my dearest friends... with this war, I shall avenge your deaths! At long last, your pleas for revenge have come to fruition!” He looked up at everyone with a hollow glare. “Do not attempt to stop me when we get out there,” he shared. “Form whatever plan you please. I shall focus on Edelgard, and her alone.” Before anyone could say anything, he turned tails and walked off. No one dared to speak out to him.

Once Dimitri was gone, Dedue cleared his throat. “I believe I should step in to fill His Highness’ place in strategizing what to do for the battle tomorrow,” he spoke. He then stepped forward to fill in the prince’s place, and pointed at two parts of the map. “These are strongholds that we have established in the residential area, so it would be wise to maintain our position there, should we want the tide of the battle to be in our favor,” he pointed out. “If we fail to do so, the enemy troops may use those strongholds as points where they can draw allies to.”

Alois and Catherine’s eyes went wide. “Ah, yes, a very astute observation!” Alois remarked. “You seem to be quite a capable strategist.”

Dedue smiled at the compliment. “I merely wish to ensure that His Highness doesn’t get himself killed in the battle for any foolish,” he shared. “After all, he saved my life back in Duscur. I am merely doing my best to return to favor.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to do, but Lady Rhea’s safety comes first, not Dimitri’s,” Catherine pointed out. “I trust that you’ll follow after him to keep him safe, but everyone else needs a plan, both to take back the residential area, and to protect Lady Rhea.”

“I understand,” Dedue responded. “Let’s continue discussing our course of action, then. For the safety of everyone here with us.”

...

Edelgard’s army was marching closer and closer to Garreg Mach by the minute. Everyone was on standby, ready to lay their lives on the line to protect the monastery and to protect Rhea. At this moment, Sylvain figured it would be best to chat with Byleth quickly, before the two were inevitably swept apart by the war.

Finding the former mercenary to be spending his few moments before the war began at the greenhouse, Sylvain stepped in and whistled to let Byleth know of his presence. “Hey Professor,” he greeted him. “How... are you feeling? Overwhelmed, I’m sure.”

Byleth offered a small smile to the redhead upon seeing him enter. “You’re not wrong,” he informed the noble. “A war of this scale is something I never anticipated getting involved in. This will be a historic moment, regardless of the outcome. It’s the first time someone’s tried to invade Garreg Mach since its establishment, after all.”

Sylvain nervously chuckled as he rubbed the nape of his neck. “Yeah, this is definitely a first for all of us,” he laughed, trying to ease the tension they were both feeling from the impending battle. “I had my family’s relic be sent back to our castle just in case. It’s the furthest point from the Adrestian Empire in the Kingdom of Faerghus, and I sincerely doubt Edelgard’s made buddies with Streng just yet.”

“A wise decision to make,” Byleth commented. “I hope the spear of your choice for this battle will suffice.” The two laughed for a moment before silence befell them. Sylvain was the one who broke the silence.

“Listen, Professor, I just want to say that I... I thank you for being there for me this entire year,” Sylvain shared. “I know I was a bit of a jerk to you at the beginning of the year, but you’ve shown me time and time again just how wonderful of a person you are. I’m... glad I got to meet you. I really mean that.”

Byleth lifted his hand to rustle in the noble’s hair affectionately, laughing a little as he did so. “It’s true, you were a bit of a pain in the butt for me to deal with at the start,” he admitted. “But I, too, am grateful for the opportunity to have met you. You’re a wonderful person, Sylvain. Please don’t ever forget that.” The two men’s cheeks flushed a rosy pink, enjoying the moment they were sharing. But the moment didn’t last long, for it was interrupted by the blaring of horns outside. Edelgard’s troops had arrived at Garreg Mach.

“Ah, shit, they’re here!” Sylvain exclaimed. “Come on! They need us at the front!” Byleth nodded, and the two sprinted as fast as they could to the residential area to meet up with everyone else. Sure enough, Edelgard’s troops had arrived where they suspected them to. But they couldn’t believe that the two strongholds had already been taken by them. The Death Knight was protecting the one on their left, and Hubert was protecting the one on their right.

“Everyone, remember! This is a battle to fight with every ounce of our lives!” Rhea shouted from atop a podium behind the group. “The monastery must be protected at all cost!”

“Protect Lady Rhea at all costs!” Seteth shouted out. “And watch out for each other-!”

“EDELGAAAAAAAAAARD!!!!!”

Dimitri bellowed out a mighty roar before running off down the central path of the residential area the moment he saw Edelgard. Dedue quickly looked over at Byleth and gave him a quick nod of affirmation before running off to protect the crown prince. Byleth then turned around to look at everyone. “Remember the strategies we discussed!” he ordered. “Do what you must!”

Ingrid ran up to Sylvain really quickly, and nudged him on the shoulder. “Sylvain! I have Mickey for you in the back!” she informed him. “Let me get him for you!”

“Ah, thank you Ingrid!” Sylvain quickly thanked the blonde. “You’re a real lifesaver sometimes!” The two smiled at each other before she ran off back to fetch Sylvain’s horse and her pegasus. “Professor! Let’s wait for Ingrid! We’ll trace on Mickey’s back together so we can travel faster!”

The former mercenary nodded in agreement, before turning over to Mercedes. “Mercedes, take a handful of people and go secure the stronghold being protected by the Death Knight!” he commanded. “I’ll focus on securing the one Hubert has!”

Mercedes gave a quick thumbs up. “Of course!” she affirmed. “Annie, Felix, Miss Catherine, Miss Shamir, Mister Alois, please come with me! We can do this if we work together!” The group all ran off together to tackle the Death Knight and take back the stronghold from him.

At that moment, Ingrid returned to the group with both Mickey and Persephone by her side. “Sylvain! I got Mickey for you!” she revealed.

Sylvain was elated to see his horse once more and gave it a firm hug around its neck and scratched its head before hopping on its back. “I missed you so much buddy,” he cooed. He then turned his attention over to Byleth. “Professor, what’s next?” he asked.

The professor turned over to Ingrid. “Ingrid, I want you to take Ashe up into the air and be our aerial support,” he ordered. “Ashe is a superb archer, and I trust in his capabilities to strike down any forces he may see. Keep him safe, Ingrid.”

The blonde nodded. “Understood,” she agreed. She then turned over to the silver haired boy. “Ashe, come on. I’ll give you a lift. Be sure to hold on tight.” He rushed over to her side and she helped him up onto Persephone’s back before flying up into the air and soaring off to scout the land for anyone in need of help.

Byleth then turned back over to Sylvain and hopped aboard Mickey. “Alright, let’s go take care of Hubert. Flayn! Seteth! You’re coming with Sylvain and I! Manuela! Hanneman! Cyril! Protect Lady Rhea!”

“Understood, Professor!” Flayn exclaimed. “I’ve been working hard on mastering my fire magic! I can only hope it’ll be enough to stand a chance against Hubert’s dark magic!” The four of them ran off to go take care of Hubert, while the three others rushed off to act as the defense line for Rhea.

When Mercedes and her group finally arrived at the Death Knight’s stronghold, there was only one thing on her mind. “Death Knight! Please, answer me this! Are you... really my brother, Emile?”

The Death Knight was silent for a moment before uttering a soft “Mercedes...” before twitching a little and having his demeanor shift to be the threatening figure everyone else knew. “If you and your allies do not get out of my way, I shall slaughter you all by my hand.”

Mercedes was shocked to hear such a thing from Emile of all people, but steeled herself and held a pose. “I didn’t want to do this, but I will have to use force against you, for the sake of the monastery,” she proclaimed. “Everyone! Let us take him down!”

Byleth and Sylvain finally arrived at the stronghold Hubert was guarding, with Seteth and Flayn hurrying to catch up with them. Sylvain made Mickey screech to a halt as Hubert shot a blast at the two, barely missing due to Sylvain’s quick actions. “Hubert, you dastard!” Sylvain shouted in anger. “Why go out of your way to betray the Church of Seiros?!”

“I firmly believe the church to be nothing more than a bunch of lies made up by Rhea for her own selfish desires,” he explained, evidently relishing in the despair coming off of the group. “It’s a pity you fools can’t see the same thing.”

“No, you’re wrong on that part. I’ve seen through Rhea and know of her intentions... and while they may be selfish, they are also in the benefit of the people.”

The remark came from Byleth, whom Hubert seemed less than pleased to see. “Ah, Professor, how lovely to see you here,” he sneered. “Edelgard wanted to have you on our side, but I knew all along that you would be nothing more than a thorn in her side. So... I shall have fun eradicating you like the pesky thorn that you are.”

“NO!”

Hubert’s blast of dark magic was hit by a blast of fire magic from Flayn, whose powers were being amplified by Seteth. The clash of the two magics caused a burst to explode in the air, catching everyone off guard. Hubert looked over at Flayn with disgust. “You... how dare you stay here,” he jeered. “You should just die. So allow me to have the honor of- Ack-!”

Hubert was struck in the back by an arrow from the air, which the group quickly found to be Ashe with Ingrid on Persephone. Hubert stumbled over and fell off the top of the stronghold onto the stone floor, making a groan of pain as he did so. He pulled the arrow out of his back and let the blood seep out. He rolled over, and had Sylvain’s spear pointed at this throat. “Alright, end of the line you wannabe vampire freak,” the redhead declared. “Anything you wanna say before I drive this spear into your neck?”

Instead of saying anything, Hubert just let out a small laugh before blasting a small burst of dark magic at Sylvain. It was only thanks to his quick reflexes that he was able to dodge the attack. When he looked back down at where Hubert was, he saw that the black-haired man had disappeared, leaving behind only a thin cloud of purple smoke. “H-He got away!” Flayn worriedly exclaimed. “W-Where did he go?!”

“He couldn’t have gone far. He’s too weak for long-distance teleportation,” Seteth assured Flayn, resting his hand on her shoulder. “For now, the two of us should hold up in the stronghold and keep enemy forces away.” The priest then turned his focus over to the two men. “I trust you two will keep going onward,” he uttered. “I wish you the best of luck.” The two men nodded, and rode off on Mickey to catch up with Dimitri and Dedue.

As they were riding off to the center of the battle, they saw the Death Knight fleeing on the sidelines, evidently injured from the battle at the stronghold. “Hey, the Death Knight’s escaping!” Sylvain exclaimed. “This must mean Mercedes and her group took back the stronghold!” As the two of them were getting closer to Dimitri, Dedue, and Edelgard duking it out in a two-on-one battle surrounded by the corpses of troops on both sides, the two men could hear what it was that they were saying.

“Your Highness, be careful!”

“YOU SHALL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE, EDELGARD!!!”

“Persistent...!”

And then everyone heard the roar of a terrifying beast. And when they looked up, they all saw a white dragon soar above them, shooting a beam of fire from its mouth. It was quiet, but Byleth could hear Edelgard utter under her breath “Is that... Rhea’s true form...?”

Upon the realization that the dragon flying above them was most likely Rhea, Byleth quickly jumped off Mickey and ran off after her. He ignored Sylvain’s exclamation of worry, and brandished his sword. Racing to catch up with the dragon, who had perched itself on one cliffside, he cut through hordes of enemy soldiers and arrived at its side. “Rhea!” he shouted, panting out of exhaustion. “Is... Is that really you?!”

The dragon looked down at the voice beside it and was surprised to see Byleth standing there. “You...! What are you doing here?!” it questioned. “You should be-!” At that moment, a pack of demonic beasts leaped out at her and latched onto her, biting and tearing her body apart as she roared in pain. Byleth quickly turned the Sword of the Creator into a whip and cracked open their porcelain faces, weakening them and giving Rhea the opportunity to throw them off the cliff. When she turned to thank him for his help, she looked shock and shouted out in worry “Byleth! Watch out!”

The mint-haired man twirled around to see that Thales, the pallid man who took Kronya after she had killed Jeralt all those months ago, standing on a ledge. With a blast aimed specifically at the ground beneath the former mercenary, the Agarthan made his shot and sent the man flying over the ledge and into the depths of the gorge beside the cliff.

Sylvain had just come out of the outer walls of Garreg Mach to see Byleth fall down into the gorge.

“BYLETH!!!” the redhead screamed in anguish. He rushed over to Thales, ready to pierce him through the skull with his spear for sending Byleth over the edge of the cliff, but the Agarthan knew that it was coming and teleported away. Not skipping a beat, he got off of Mickey and ran over to the cliff’s edge. He got down on his knees and reached down into the abyss, desperately wishing he could’ve grabbed onto the older man’s hands and pulled him to safety. But he couldn’t. He failed him. And tears poured out of his eyes in a fit of complete and utter despair.

It wouldn’t be for another five years that the two would reunite after the older man’s presumed demise.

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I really only saw this being 20,000 words at most when I first started writing this, and yet, here we are, over 45,000 words in and just now ending the academy phase of the Blue Lions route. I also really wanted to make this story a one-shot, but I'm pretty sure that the second half will be even longer, and I won't be able to fit it all in a single chapter; at least, not with this 500,000 character count limit that we have at the moment. Ah well, that's fine by me. I hope you guys enjoy the war phase of this fic when it comes out! It's going to be a lot steamier than this half!


End file.
